Where is your boyfriend?

I have been asked this question time and time again

From fourteen to twenty-four. Ten years of wishing the question would change

More adequately a question should be posed and perhaps something sincere

Where is your love?

Not how are you, where are you, why are you?

Love is in a hug I can no longer receive

My love is found in the silence of a prayer

It can be grasped in the shared laughter among friends

Even then it is the simplicity of sharing a seat with my family

Love is in my Identity

A very tangible thing that is difficult to work for

It would require me to assess the need to make myself whole

Love is the existence in wordlessness

Gulping for air and letting my cheeks flush red

Love is something I’ve come to appreciate in the distance

I observe and shepherd my cousins

Witness as my siblings grow

It is the compassion I share with friends knowing I don’t want it to be more

Love is all around me and simultaneously isn’t

Love is the plate of sliced fruit

Love is in the completed chore without question

Love is in care that is not requested

Love is in the silence as you hear me cry

Love is here, always has been, hasn’t changed

Perhaps if we were to ask ourselves where our love is

Maybe then we could start asking

What does it all mean?