To Be Loved- A Poem By Nia Rose

Love

Such a versatile word

One can say they love a person,

or the soft aroma of vanilla and cinnamon,

or a song that brings them back in time.

Do these all mean the same thing? 

Is possible to crave the amber hues of a sunset more than a person?

Can one cherish the drops of rain on their skin more than a lover’s touch?

I wish there were an undisputed scale 

on which everyone’s capacity for love could be tested,

because when you said you loved me, it was meaningless. 

Of course, your idea of love could mean more to another than it does to me.

I measure love by its ability to make my heart swell and my body tingle.

You measure it by the number of times a person will allow themselves to open up to you, 

even when you have proved yourself to be an unsafe haven for their head to rest.

It’s funny the way the world works, isn’t it?