love and your word is not love. Your
clothes are not love and holding hands is not love.
S.ex is not love and a kiss is
not love. Long letters are not love and a text is not love.
Flowers are not love and a box of chocolates is not love.
Sunsets are not love and photographs are not love. The stars
are not love and a beach under the moonlight is not love. The
smell of someone else on your pillow is not love and the
feeling of their skin touching your skin is not love.
Heart-shaped candy is not love and an overseas holiday is not
love. The truth is not love and winning an argument is not
love. Warm coffee isn't love and cheap cards bought from
stores are not love. Tears are not love and laughter is not
love. A head on a shoulder is not love and messages written at
the front of books given as gifts are not love. Apathy is not
love and numbness is not love. A pain in your chest is not love
and clenching your fist is not love. Rain is not love.
Only you. Only you, are
When I sit near you, my hands
suddenly become alien things and I don't know where to put
them or what they usually do, like this is the first time
I've ever had hands and maybe they go in my pockets and
maybe they don't.
It’s when you hold eye contact for that second too long or maybe
the way you laugh. It sets off a flash and our memories take a picture of who
we are at that point when we first know “This is love.” And we
clutch that picture to our hearts because we expect each other to always be
the people in that picture. But people change. People aren’t pictures.
And you can either take a new picture or throw the old one away.
nervous. I’m afraid. But I will stand here in the white hot
heat of you. I will play Russian roulette with your playlists. I
will tell jokes I’m not sure you’ll find funny. I
will hold on until there is no more reason to. And in the end, I
will break the stars and resurrect the sun.
And you taught me
what this feels like. And then how it feels to lose it. And you
showed me who I
wanted. And then who I wasn’t. And you ticked every
box. And then drew a
line. And you weren’t mine to begin with. And then
not to end with.
And you looked like everything I wanted. And then became
something I hated.
And you get thought of every day. And then not in a good way. And you let
me leave. And then wished I’d stayed. And you almost killed
me. But I didn’t