The thing about love
Is that nobody even
Knows what it is

I thought I did
A few times

Once, when bangs
Were brushed out of my eyes
By soft hands

Another time
When I kissed the wrong person

Usually
I was all wrong

Now
You lay in my bed
My windowsill
Is a soft light-box
That flickers candle light
Onto your smooth skin
Your eyes are always smiling.

I don't know if this is love
Though I do love it.

That's all I need to know.