the (un)measured life

Let my life not be measured
by gold or productivity or towers built
for someone to later knock down

Instead, let it be measured
by the number of kisses
on my neck, my forehead, my lips (and elsewhere).

Let my life be measured
by the number of times
I have heard or spoken the words “I love you.”

Let it be measured by my willingness
to have my heart shattered
again and again
until it is fully open.

Let my life be measured
by the number of tears cried, by my gasps of wonder,
by the hearts I’ve touched
and orgasms I have shared.

Let my life be measured
by the times life swept me off my feet
not the times I held on tightly.

Let my life be measured
by the times I have plunged into the abyss of the unknown
or the drops of sweat that have dripped into my mouth
from my lover’s brow.

Let my life be measured
by the times I had the courage to look into the eyes of another
long enough to see my own reflection.

In fact, let me not measure, quantify or calculate this life,
let me make love to it slowly, tenderly and passionately.