Falling in love

image source Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while maintaining the love I have already found.

I fall in love with scars, wrinkles,
clichés, and repetition; I fall in love
with items that people throw to the wind,
kick around, and step upon.

I fall in love with my enemies,
one of life's hardest lessons to learn;
I find haters to be marvelous motivators.

The old man who sits in a rain-gorged gutter,
his fist raised to the sky in fury
as he talks to an invisible audience
about how Apollo stole his dearly, beloved wife—

I fall in love with him too.

I fall in love with things that some people deem
as ugly, dirty, morose, and immoral.
The more I fall in love,
the more I love each moment,
including the pain, torture, and misery
that may unfold along the way.

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while reinforcing the love I have already found.

If I write down treasonously teetering words,
the reader could assume such words
to be rooted in rage, or a cynical outlook,
when the words are actually birthed from love—
I love every word in existence.

I fall in love with the woman
who is too shy to have a sincere conversation with anyone,
because she believes herself to be grotesque,
when in fact, she is exquisitely gorgeous.

I fall in love with broken daffodils, bent daisies,
a shattered seashell, the sweet stench of seaweed
rotting on the shore, and the way her hair smells
baking in the sun.
I fall in love with black and white photographs,
mesmerized by the essence that the dead have left behind.
I fall in love with marbles, the feathers of mourning doves,
and with the stray cat, who, after she watched the moving truck
drive away, slunk around the alley in search of scraps—
over the years, she has proven to be a respectful
and loyal companion (so easy to fall in love with, again and again,
while maintaining the love I already have).
I fall in love with saints, villains, rusted watering cans,
the way sunlight bends into prisms
when it shines through the cracked, antique windowpane
that I simply don't want to replace.

And as for the people who believe that it's impossible
for someone such as myself
to fall in love with something new, every, single day,

well, I love them too.

This poem was published on April 6th 2012 by Chris D. Aechtner
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