MY LOVE FLOODS

My love is no summer breeze.
My love is hurricane winds.

My love does not pass through unnoticed—
it arrives with weather warnings,
with barometric drops felt in the bones.

My love upends foundations,
proving what holds steadfast
and exposing what was never built for stability.
What survives was anchored.
What falls was already pretending.

My love dismantles habits like paper-thin walls,
piece by piece, tearing pretext to confetti,
revealing rooms that were never finished,
corners dusted with avoidance and delay.

My love pushes borders like swelling storm surge,
crashing over seawalls and flowing into spaces
barred against the tide,

My love gathers strength from pressure and heat,
from compression, from resistance,
not to destroy,
but to reveal resilience—
to show what bends and what breaks,
and what learns to stand differently.

My love spirals outward,
drawing hidden truths into its orbit,
pulling what was buried to the surface.
Center calm surrounded by motion,
a gravity that cannot be reasoned with,
only felt.

My love rattles shutters,
not to break them,
but to show which ones hold
and which were nailed on for appearances.

My love drives rain across the landscape,
washing away what cannot endure,
stripping facades to bare structure,
leaving clarity behind—
what remains able to breathe.

My love is the eye and the gale,
stillness and fury,
balance within chaos,
the quiet that comes only
after everything false has been tested.

My love presses on, relentless,
expanding into every corner
that claimed immunity,
every space that believed it could remain unchanged.

My love refuses containment.
My love ignores dams built of fear and delay.

My love floods.
My love floods.