Gregory Heath’s poem looks at the powerlessness that can accompany true love, whether you choose it or not. Illustration by Tobias Hall.

When I say I have come to love you
I do not mean that I have become
accustomed to your morning moods
or the way you reduce my friends
to nervous wrecks at parties.

When I say I have come to love you
I am not talking of time having passed,
of feelings that grew imperceptibly as flowers,
bursting one day into tender shocking blooms.

When I say I have come to love you
it is not because you please me.
You are reckless, you are spoilt,
and you are careless with my heart.

God help me.
When I say I have come to love you
I mean that is what I am here for.

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