Love

I don’t know if love meant screaming at each other till out throats died out, our words like knives piercing through the promises we made.

I don’t know if love meant standing at the top of the tallest building we could find, shouting 'I love you.

I don’t know if love was a war. 

Picking out each flaw so flawlessly. 

Our swords passing through the so-called-trust we wore for shields, our silence, the bullets shot through the sad metaphors for bodies we called ours.

Or maybe, love was comfort, a warm body, a home to come back to.