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May 2018
when it’s late at night and we haven’t spoken in some hours,
you fall asleep without texting me goodnight,
and I’m left wondering if you love me
like I love you.

But other times,
when we are together and your eyes are locked on mine,
it is silent.
But not a bad silent, because the light is shining through the window and reflecting off of my mirror and onto your face, and your face is
almost as soft as the faint heartbeat I feel in my chest.
When we are together, I tell you “I love you,” and you say you
love me too.

But, you reply that you “love me more.”
So, I love you “most.”
But you love me to “infinity,”
and nothing beats infinity,
so I guess you think you’ve taken the crown in the battle of our hearts.
Unless, of course, you consider my loving you more than infinity… but you’re structured mind won’t accept my metaphors.

Can love be quantified?

Can I truly love you more than you love me? As if I have taken the love out of my fragile heart and placed it on a scale, feeling it’s weight in my hands and seeing its amount in numbers before me?

Would love still be love if it was measured so?
Or, would it turn into something we collect,
rather than something we cherish and give away?

What is love, anyway?

Other than the happiness I feel when I am with you? Or
the peace I feel inside when your warmth engulfs me and the turmoil in my mind is silenced?

Perhaps love isn’t one particular thing. Perhaps it is many things, presenting itself in many ways.
And, perhaps, your love presents itself in different ways than mine.

When you say you love me I know it's true, because by God,
if it isn’t love,
what the **** is it?
Written by
samantha  18/F/ny
   Emily, Fawn, Stella F and ---
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