What is love?

okay, so maybe I'm not the most experienced gal, 

and I'm probably going about this all wrong. 

You see,  when you say my name you make it sound pretty 

not like a curse, or burden like he did. 

when you hold my hand it feels so right, 

who knew hands could do so much more than hurt?  

When you look at me you see me, 

not my body and all its curves. 

When you talk to me, 

you seem to care, really care, like if I stopped talking your world would darken a little bit  

and you would actually miss my voice. 

when I leave, it hurts to part, I don't know how/want to know how to walk away from you.  

I left him with one finger in the air and a screaming match.

You see, He did not love me. 

he said he did.  

they always do.  

dumb girls like me want to believe him. we want to soften our hard, tired, untrusting eyes and let someone in.   

We too want to feel something. 

so when you say you want to melt my heart,  

to love me, really love me, 

I can only tell you that I cannot love,  

I don't really know what love is. 


This poem is about: 
Our world


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