"Do I love her?"
He laughed
As if you'd just asked the bird soaring above your head
If it was flying.

"The sun rises
At the sound of her voice.
The whisper of good morning hiding
Beneath the covers."

"And sets,"
He said,
"When her eyelids close, and I can no longer see
Her smirk shining through the starlight."

"I do not love her."
He sighed
He bellowed.
"I need her."