Love is like a foreign language once you hear it, you want to hear it more speak it without it sounding alien though she will behave here
as in a schoolbook for a foreign language where we are all beginners all sometimes say ***** words
ii
Without meaning to, she reaps She sleeps, she washes, she softens to its touch because it was made for her like attachment, and for him like pleasure
love has no vowels, no translations, no silence only a universal physicality and spirituality that makes you have no defenses, you
iii
Trying not to love doesn’t bring you anywhere it’s creative to let her use you she is the last refugee and the first politics she comes back in the evening when
your world is torn upside down with bills it’s love that cooks for you darling she whispers to you, “I’m taking you home”.