Love is knowing that you need him. And being okay with it.
Love is knowing that when you get to this low, you can get out of it for him.
Love is really understanding that it's okay to be scared or afraid or terrified or broken or ugly or fat or mistreated or scarred
Because love sees all of it and smiles and says
"There goes my baby."
Love is looking for him, and seeing him, and smiling because you can.
Love is making excuses to touch him.
Love is really biting and scratching and clawing and punching and pinching and yelling and swearing and screaming
Because in the end, who the hell else is going to listen to you?