Is that what you call love?

“He loves me. He does.”

That what she repeats every morning

When the phone rings

And she hears

“I had a great time last night.”

She's only a friend.

At least that's what he said

And when her friends ask

She'll say

“I fell. No big deal”

They'll probably believe her

“But what about the black eye?”

You can see her discomfort

But instead she laughs

“you'll never believe what happened!”

And they didn't.

But like she always says

“ No big deal “

Next it's the marks around her neck

“It was an accident.

He didn't mean it.

He loves me.”

“is that what you call love?”

“Yes. Because he didn't mean it.”

“but darling, he hit you.”

“What can I say?

Accidents happen…”

“Honey, that's not an accident.”

“But it was.

He would never actually hit me.

Not on purpose. He loves me.

I love him.

It’s love.”

“Is that what you call love?”

This poem is about: 
Our world

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