Learning the Shape of Love

I grew up thinking love
was a hand that reached
only to take.

I learned to make myself small,
to give quickly what was wanted,
hold back my tears,
accept the emptiness as proof
I had done it right.

Then he came along
and asked for nothing.
Not endurance,
not obedience,
not submission.

He gave me space to choose,
to say No,
to give freely
what I want to give.

This freedom feels strange.
Like a hand held out, waiting,
not closing
until I take it.