gazing up at the stars he
peered the question;
"what is love?"

I thought for a few seconds,
something that could not
be answered by a thought
for a few seconds.
Clearing my throat to buy
more time, I recalled every
moment, second, minute of
love have ever been felt for
a person by me.

Indeed- I answered, said to
him that love was "the bare
nakedness of accepting and
beholding the flaws of a person."

As I recalled deeper I realized
I had never been part
of a love like that. In fact the
love I had described was
the love I wished I had
been in, but no, never have
I experienced such unique,
loving, love-filled love.

What is love?

In another life I will answer
that question in less than a few
seconds, gaze up at the sky
same as he, immerse in the
uncertainty and inconsistency
of the universe, and admit to
myself that the lie-filled reality
I have been living is nothing
in relation with love, for
I know not what love is.