by Sarah Steele
I couldn't make him love me more.
(Believe me when I say I tried.)
Through double dates
And filling plates
And vowing to be World's Best Mate,
I loved until I cried.
But
I couldn't make him love me more.
No matter how I'd idolize
My faithful acts
And filling cracks
And all the Blessed Loving Facts,
I started to despise.
And still!
I couldn't make him love me more.
But then one day my soul transgressed.
I crashed and burned;
My spirit churned;
And yet he gave me love unearned.
My heart leapt dumbstruck when it learned–
I couldn't make him love me less.
Sarah Steele is a Christ-follower, wife to James, and mom to four lively redheads. Poetry has captured her heart since the death of her grandmother in early childhood, helping her to work feelings into written pictures. As a wordy extrovert, she finds its genre particularly useful in learning to be succinct. She writes between homeschooling, watercoloring, and spending time outside with all the people.
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