After I'm Ghosted, I Ask The Internet What It Means to Be In Love

okay google, what is love? because once i felt a low gut knock,

& now, now i’m not one to open doors unannounced, so if you know,

in your many infinite wisdoms please name it for me somehow.

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Love encompasses many positive feelings, such as affection,

compassion, and selflessness. Is this what you felt?

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hey google, i’m unsure. once, i told him i would do anything he asked

me to. is this affection? i watched his knuckles shift through

a green light & he said nothing, & nothing, & anything

flit across my flesh anyway. is this compassion? beneath the flesh

was desire. shovel & bone. i wanted him to ask. i wanted my body

to be as much his body as it was my body. is this selfless? please,

google, like i’m five.

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The body is teensy bits of cells falling apart. The heart is a clenched fist.

The lungs sit in a cavity of red. Where does it hurt?

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hey google, it’s everywhere. thank you for asking. i crawled out

of my wide-open mouth & when he shifted across another boulevard,

when he finally, finally asked, i crawled back in. each mouthful

of clean air sucked clean out of me. tell me, google, can love kill me?

tell me google, was it close?

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The human body is susceptible to many fatalities. Sickness, accident,

something on purpose. A human’s only natural predator is death.

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okay google, but i’m asking about love.

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Love’s natural predator is also death.

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okay google but what if he left when my heart was mid-riot? what then?

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I’m sorry I don’t understand. Please try rephrasing your question.

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google, what if his love was a zoo full of every warm beast

i ever wished for & shouldn’t have?

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I’m sorry I don’t understand. Would you like to know more

about animals?

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hey google, what if after him my heart became an animal

someone intends to slaughter? god, for months when i spoke

of belonging, i spoke only of him. google, do you see?

google, should i call him?

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I’m sorry I don’t understand. Are you looking for something biblical?

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hey google, maybe. what is divine intervention anyway?

my fingers won’t stop scraping at his exit wounds & maybe

something’s gotta be done. is there a patron saint for the ghosts

who don’t die? does he live in me? does he know if it was love, this

bright & unruly thing made out of my heart? does he want to know

where it hurts? tell him it’s everywhere, it’s everywhere.