The love that stays

Maybe the idea of constants,
Is so alienated today, to everyone,
That the thought of staying is scary.

It’s easy to stay connected and not attached.
To talk and not have a conversation.
To pretend and not cry out loud.

And with this idea, we have fantasised love,
Into something it never was.
Into something it can never be.

We have put love into gifts and roses.
Into moans and sex.
Into good night texts and gifs.

And after this we Chase love.
In the most adorable faces, nicest anatomy.
In most rich and classy

We try to find love in the same city,
Having the same food habits,
Having the same taste in alcohol.

Then we complain, about love.
That it never stays, never comes back.
Never talks and smiles and finds glances.

We argue that loved fucked in the blanket,
And never held hands inside it.
Never made conversations while in it.

Maybe love isn’t about it, maybe was always
about the first sound that echoes in your head all day.
About the first person you want to finish your nap with.

Maybe with love, you don’t have to be insecure.
You don’t need to make them jealous.
Maybe with love you don’t need to beg them to stay.

Maybe with love you don’t need promises.
You don’t need to celebrate every month that passes by.
Maybe love, stays.