her face behind a blue cup

Love,
she says.
A distance removed.
Thinking about it,
still sore from all the fucking.
Love,
is intense.
Not what
she's looking for.
But what
she's running from.

I say,
there's nothing to be afraid of.
Comforting stories,
my litany of dirty fucks
posing as polyamory.

But she's leaving
to find herself
somewhere,
not here.
Of course.
No need for
attachments.
And love is intense.

I say,
I have no expectations,
knowing full well that
I'm expecting a reply.
Affirmation,
a return to source.
With every glance and motion,
her on top of me.
Anything is possible.

Her body still sore.
In silence.
The warmth so close
and eternal.
Closing our eyes
as we reinforce the walls.
For now.

Love, I say,
is not as intense
as fear.