On the quietness of love- by Juan M.S

The strongest is the quietest love,

which never whispers stealthily in your ear,

which doesn’t serenade you at late hours,

which doesn’t dare to pronounce

the verb in process, the unfinished action.

The one that takes credit for nothing,

but in the death hour

will be happy in the thought

that it could pour itself out on you

and will not die full

of unfulfilled potential.

Love is imperfective,

because when it’s perfected

it’s done,

and it’s quiet,

because while being spoken

it ceases to be.

Love is its own reason,

it doesn’t need arguments

to exist.

It’s an urge that would kill

if it’s not quenched.

Love isn’t carefree butterflies

but a loaded gun in our pocket,

it isn’t fair but brutal,

it’s not optional but it bursts out

as we cling to our loved ones

for fear of stopping being able to love

when they’re gone.

Love is quiet but only

if we let it speak.


I'm a writer born in Argentina, but currently living in Poland. I work as an English and French teacher, translator and copywriter.

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