what is (was) love?

-

"Is this love?", you ask

as I make us eggs.

"No." is my reply

as I kiss your face.


"This is love.", you think

when I come get you

under heavy rain.

But, once again, no.


"Now, this must be love",

you say as you see

my name on your phone

from across the world.


No.


What I thought was love

was choosing to stay

after you showed me

your indifference.


So, then, what is love

if not being there?

Love was just the lie

I used to believe.


A lie with your face,

your eyes and your hands;

one that lasted years

filled with bitter tears.

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