Love is

 

love is not

a gentle ride,

on silver sun burnt sand

or stroll

in warm light speckled wood.

 

love is a carving,

altering,

metamorphic

cathartic struggle,

 

a fight, not for birth but for breath

and sustenance.

 

love is

a squeezing fist,

 

rattled ribs

a spavined spine,

 

love is altering, twisting, warping

until you fit

into the palm

of your lover’s hand.

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