On Condition by Emily Rose Whitehead

Your love was on condition
You showed me the fine print
Handed me a nearly empty pen
Directed my eyes down to a page
A page filled with terms and agreements
A page titled ‘My love contract’

I held that pen full of empty promises and extended conversation
I had so many questions,
The first one being:
If my love was free,
If my love was an ever growing garden dedicated to your house,
If my love was a tender caress from my ancestors to yours
Given to you without any conditions
Then why was your love a form?
A contract protecting your heart
A contract breaking mine--On condition

My second question was this
If my love was written in bubbles, 
Coloured in rainbows,
Kissed by toothless faeries
Why was yours put into Times New Roman fineprint?
Your line dotted, mine blurred

My final inquiry comes in shallow breaths
If my love was crying on your shoulder,
If my love was dancing to your heartbeat,
If my love has sailed across the pacific to find you
Why was yours stagnant?
Holding format with black ink

Even if my love was to be what you wanted it to be
If it was a reciprocating contract with an old yellow legal pad of support
You would still have conditions.

You see my love is flight,
My love is rage,
My love is a snorting laugh when you wake up and a dirty cigarette when you sleep.
My love has no terms other than to be accepted for what it is.

About the Author

Emily is a local creative who is currently exploring different artistic mediums. She enjoys live local music, skiing, writing, and mountain culture. She co-hosts a music program on Kootenay Coop Radio entitled “Two Chicks, One Night”, Mondays at 7:00 pm. She is also a contributing member of the board of directors at KCR.

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