love is a fridge full of vegetables

love is bread, broken and torn at 3 am

i thought i knew what Love was. but i was wrong.
so wrong…

and then it hit me.

and it hit me hard.

Love is a shirt, a soiled sweater or a pair of socks.
anything that evokes that feeling
when you inhale the lingering scent of moments before.
moments that transcend the space/time continuum,
where you find yourself whisked back into their arms,
only to awaken hours later
in a pile of dirty laundry.

Love is a little notepad.
a diary,
leather-bound and bejewelled.
scribbles and musings. words.
words that will be given when full.
words that hold more than mere thought.
words that hold emotion, raw.
re-read, re-lived.
words that breathe, and bleed-
tattooed into the heart, mind and soul.

Love is a hard-drive full of photographs,
like the heart, a hard-drive full of memories.
photographs of that face.
that face that you long to hold,
and kiss.
that face that you miss
with such overwhelming frequency
and intensity.

Love is a fridge full of vegetables and fruit.
because food, like Love, is something to be shared.
bread, broken and torn at 3am.
soup, warm and spiced, for the soul.
a cup of tea-
made with love
and delivered by the gentle hand
that you crave.

Love is a bed.
a bed where Love is made.
an unmade bed.
sheets tangled
and perfumed.
stained, with Love
and dreams and tears of completeness.

Love is a wild, dynamic space.
from being inside –
not knowing where one begins
and the other ends.
to that empty place
when Love leaves the room
– even if it is just for 5 minutes,
it echoes when alone.
can you feel it?
i can.
because Love consumes.
every thought. every action.
from shopping and washing dishes
and making a home for it;
to travelling through the unknown
into the very arms of it.

Love stirs time.
waking moments.
a year in the blink of an eye.
but Love is centuries old.
Love has always been there,
it seems.
with curious familiarity,
and ease.

Love leads us home.

Love pulls in all directions.
but never pulls apart.
because Love is why.
a pen, once held;
a cup, from which those lips
drank so freely, smiling,
makes us happy;
a pillow, indented;
a guitar, tuned;
a poem; a sketch;
a song-
i can’t be wrong.

Love is a gift.
bestowed with trust
respect and
patient nurturing.
Love is the ultimate friendship,
loyal and unquestioning.
Love is Love-
it must not be given lightly
nor taken for granted.

Love is more than a feeling.
it is an awakening.
the love i know
saved me,
paved me a way back to me.
back to he.
a way back home.
Love is he.
he is home.

when you know Love,
and all that it means to you,
you feel alive.
tripping on the world, differently,
colours vibrate.
you vibrate.

and it’s the little things.
it’s in everything.
it’s in all your wishes and fears.
it is all that you are,
and want to be.

Love is a sickness.
a wonderful, beautiful sickness.
homesick for that next moment
and the ones gone before.

to remain in that moment…

Love shall prevail.
nurture and protect.

it is not just about the ‘three little words’
– it is more
– it is the implicit words.
a kiss-
a touch-
a listening ear-
a hand to hold-
a comfort blanket,
when alone, or cold.

if you love someone be sure you let them feel it.
because once you know Love…
you will never feel alone.

(c) Kat McDonald 2014

for the one i Love…


26 thoughts on “love is a fridge full of vegetables

  1. So beautiful it made me weep…tears of joy and knowing, remembering love in all its colours…even the dark colours when someone has left…I can still breathe in the scent of him on my pillow case. I have written about Love many times on my blog at Traces. Thank you for following my blog…I am truly humbled.Your poem touched me so, I am writing to a few to let them know how much I do love them:)


  2. Pingback: Love is little notepad | THE PERISCOPE

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