Every morning
When the sun breaks
Over the misty horizon
And crawls in through our open windows
I open my eyes,
Kiss your lips,
And tell you that I love you

You grin,
Kiss my forehead with your sleepy smile,
And ask,
"But, darling,
What IS love?"

You ask me this every sunrise
Just so you can close your eyes
And listen to me tell you

"Well,"
I say,
"Love is a rain-soaked notebook
Crammed with poetry
Written on diner napkins.
Love is an old, wooden box
Filled with letters
That have been buried in the woods
For hundreds of years.
Love is a cloudy glass jar
Filled with pennies and nickels.

"Love is the sound of a gentle thunderstorm
At three in the morning.

"Love is an abandoned cemetery
Where no one but the ghosts who are bound inside its gates
Are left to tend to the plastic flowers.
Love is an empty bed
With a carefully folded piece of paper
Resting on one of the pillows.

"Love is a blood-stained sun dress.

"Love is an unfinished poem,
Abandoned by both the pen
And by the heart.
Love is a desktop piled high with scented candles
And fat, unopened envelopes.
Love is stepping outside during a storm
Without an umbrella."

There is silence
Surrounded by the sound
Of your heart beating against my chest

"Is that all?"
You ask me,
Your eyelids fluttering
Fighting to stay open
For just another moment.

"Of coarse not,"
I tell you
"Love is so many things."

"Then tell me."
You say,
"I want to know them all."

"Alright,"
I say,
Concealing a smile,
"Love is an early morning parade
Led by butterflies and hummingbirds.
Love is a bleeding sunset
Struck by Cupid's arrow
And sinking below the mountains
To die peacefully in the arms of the earth.
Love is a disease
Spread by lingering eyes in a crowded room
And soft fingers
Dancing across cool skin.
Love is a demon that possess every soul
At least once
Leaving it broken and bleeding
But with a purpose.
Love is a prison run by criminals,
An asylum for the sane
Governed by unstable patients.

"Love is an apology
Crafted by the heart
And butchered by the mouth on the way out.
Love is a puckered, purple scar
That you have no memory
Of adding to your collection.
Love is a fire
Desperately trying to put itself out
With dry brush
And hot grease.
Love is a gaping, bleeding wound
That cannot be healed by stitches
Or by time.

"Love is an ocean of sailors
Drowning because they had placed so much of their trust
In their ship
That they never bothered to learn how to swim.
Love is a field full of dead flowers
Wilted and rotted to black pulp.
Love is a broken doorbell
With an idiot on one side
Who refuses to knock
And a deaf man on the other
Who would not be able to hear
The bell
Or the knocking anyway.
Love is an acoustic guitar
With three broken strings
And a hole worn in the side.

"Love is an empty promise
Fulfilled by happenstance.

"Love is a deep sea fish
That has known only cold, heavy water
And darkness
All his life
But still dreams every night
Of flying.
Love is a gruesome nightmare
That you are fortunate enough to forget
The moment you wake up."

I pause
I listen to the deep and heavy rhythm
Of your breathing
And I know you are asleep.
I shuffle and slide in the sheets
And tuck myself under your arms
Placing your hands on my bare waist

"Love is scary, and exciting,
And painful, and ridiculous,
And draining
All at the same time."
I tell you,
"But it's worth every second."

I close my eyes,
Kiss each one of your fingertips,
And press the palm of your hand
Against my beating heart.

"I love you."
I whisper,
"Now and forever."