Is it really love?

I find myself twisted in the grasps of my lust and my anxiety

This entanglement has brought me to yet another bed

I tell myself there’s a possibility that more can come of this

However, this tryst is a romantic figment of my imagination

You called me boo, bae, love, and sweaty

Monickers that were replaceable by the words of the sneaky link

Unneeded names used to guise the fact that you only wanted me for my body

But here I am.

Forcing myself to fall in love with a stranger in order to feel confident in the release of my sexuality

But, is it really love?

I want it to be love so I can leave this one time encounter

Reaffirming my preconceived notions that I’m destined for heartbreak

I want to fall deeply and quickly in love so that I can receive the gift of confirmation bias that resides in both of our eyes

But, is this really love?

It is the unconscious selection of qualities and characteristics that allows me to continue to replay my traumas

It is the desire to form a cemented foundation which moulds the definitions of my cognitive dissonance

But, is this really love?

Is this the hurt that I care too much for that I refused to let go

The ills and attitudes of all former lovers that I refused to release because I wanted to mend their broken hearts

Not realizing that the only heart needing mending was my own

I know it’s not love

It’s the cracks within my heart looking for quick fixes

Hoping the shards of another were a proper fit

Yet, they never were

It is the refusal of allowing the homeostatic ecosystem of my emotions and body to heal itself

It is my refusal to purge the things that are eating at my guts and soul and prevent me from embracing the power I refused to see

It is the dismissal of my intuition and integrity because I was more comfortable with being gaslighted rather than acknowledging my worth

It never was love

But, at least now, I recognize that