Love Is Not Comfort

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Love is not comfort.
It does not arrive with slippers
or ask where you’d like to sit.

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Love shows up in overalls,
boots dusted with yesterday’s collapse,
carrying a blueprint drawn in pencil
because it knows revisions are inevitable.

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Love is construction.
It measures you in vulnerable inches,
asks where the foundation cracked
long before it ever met you.
It hands you a helmet
and says,

“This may be loud.”

There is drilling
into stubborn silence.

There is the demolition
of rooms you secretly hated
but learned to decorate.

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Love does not apologize for the noise.
It welds trust
spark by spark,
tiny suns bursting
between two trembling metals.

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Some days, nothing looks different.
Just scaffolding.
Just waiting.

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Just the slow grammar of becoming.
Other days,
a window appears
where there was once only wall,
and light walks in
like it always belonged there.

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Love is not comfort.
Comfort is the finished house.

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Love
is the hammer
still warm
in your hand.

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Rap, Gutter Drill, Sludgey 808s, Dirty 808s, Grimy Trap, Dark Trap, Underground Hip-Hop, Aggressive Rap!, female