Oh,
yes.
I've been in all kinds of love
The blinding love,
killing you slowly
torturing your ribs
growing vines
that trickle into your throat
until you think
everything
has died.
The lustful love,
seeking along sunsets
next to boys on mountains
and scenic outlooks
and diners at 3am.
The filling love,
thinking you are complete
you are whole
like a puzzle
finally put together
but you are not,
and they are not going to keep you together
they are not tape
they are not glue
and you cannot be pieced back together
by mindlessness
and carelessness.
Have I ever been in love, love?
Oh.
Once.
Once
with one beautiful man.
This is the kind of love
you tell your children about.
The stories
that you'd tell them.
The kind of love
you scheme across oceans
that you whisper across rib-cages
at 3:43am,
promising you'll go to sleep
but you aren't sure
that he won't be gone
when you wake up,
oh this love
this love is the kind of love
stuck deep inside
of your mended bones
begging
to escape
This is the kind of love
you don't believe exists
but it does.
It does.
