Two sleeves brush. In a single touch, it blossoms: love.
Wide-eyed, whisper anything in my ear, I’ll call it love.

Barefoot on a pedestal, white lace, floor-length mirror.
If you don’t cry when I walk down the aisle, is it love?

You ask, what’s your name? Twirling my hair around
your finger. What a disappointment, this fleeting love.

I could cut the birthday cake you never thanked me for,
or I could cut the skin above your heart. Feel my love.

Tell me everything. All of your secrets and demons,
a vault holds them in my heart, secured with love.

Lazily, your fingers run over the bridge of my nose.
Do you dream of finding a better somebody to love?

Tears pool in the hollows of my heart. Sorrow rushes
through my bloodstream. This once felt like love.