This girl asked me what I think love is.

And all I could think of was the grinning thief from the festival, shuffling around putting trash on the fire, and coming over with his hand open, saying

Love is free, spread it around

And the women I loved,

Those people I believe I’ve loved,

Every time I’ve asked myself, how do you know?

Is this love?

Is it love when there’s nothing left to say?

Staring blankly around the pizzeria because even though you know each other,

something just got really awkward,

but why?

Is there something you wanted to say?

Or is it love when that word is the only thing that can take you higher?

Two pieces of flesh, two soft machines driven into each other again and again with just a little magic mantra to make sure you’re firing on all cylinders.

Is it love when she tells you the only two men she trusts in this world are you and her father?

Is it love when you pulse and spurt inside her and stay there in her arms, for how long?

Is it love to painstakingly grid out 1000 quarter-inch by quarter-inch squares on blank A7 sized stationary?

Is it love to stuff ten grand into a sack and drive through three states to put up bail money?

What even is love then?

Love is free, spread it around

Is it love when you touch her in ways she’s never been touched before?

Is it love when it seems like there’s nothing else to life?

Is it love when you tell her you don’t care about her kids,

or her fucking exes,

or what she thinks of her body,

because it’s just you and me,

no one else,

when we’re together it’s just you and me,

just you and me baby,

it’s just us,

just us tonight.

And when you came inside her, was that love?

Love is free, spread it around

Love is something she pulls out too early,

Love ya babe, take care.

Oh you’re the best. French fries? Ohh I love you.

Is it love when you could eat her pussy until the sun turns into an iron ball collapsing in on itself?

Is love the feeling of you spilling out of her?

Love is free, spread it around

And now,

Now the only way I can cum is to hear those three heavy, little words,

As heavy as glass,

As little as a prayer,
And that’s nothing compared to saying it yourself, holding hands so dearly,

across the throat,

across her breasts,

across their neck,

bearing down on their mortal frames,

that feeling of being as close as possible to someone.
And when it comes time to say,
I love you, baby,
or
Daddy loves you, Princess,
or
Whoever the fuck loves you,
it ends as slow and as deliciously as possible,
as delirious and as fantastic as can be imagined,
entangled in your self destructing super nova vision of what you hoped family would be.

And you may never see her again,

You may not even want to.

Leave that festering love with her,

she thinks she needs it,

but don’t look back because

love is free, but it can cost you dearly.