Love

Love:
The word gets thrown around so much that it has
Picked up a few bruises
Lost it's beauty, it's fire
Our love... My love
The "love" of a foolish youths
Awkwardly flashing their status as a pair with their
Fingers
Interlaced
Between
Hands
As they walk amongst witnesses to a spectacle
Proudly proclaiming statuses for one another on Facebook profiles
As though love was some trophy for a game in which we all compete
That a lover is something we "have"
A statement which carries weight with peers.
Something displayed on the shelf next to your youth soccor medallions
An A+ essay on the fridge

Yeah, this was my love.
Something done to fulfill some sort of social need
That women can't just be people for me
They must be measured and weighed
Studied and compared
Like some sort of commodity or luxury
To be set on the glass table at home and admired
Alien ideals: "What do I look for in a girl?"

What ever happened to people loving people?
Loving them because their hearts were improvising songs
And couldn't stand to lose the beat of the other?
Why are relationships expected,
Distributed amongst a population?
A "one in three and you should be the one for me" thing?
When did we begin to quantify love instead of qualify it?
When did it become a drop-down box
On a crowded page of irrelevant information "About Me?"

I think I get it.
I've been the fool.
And somehow, I knew
Knew enough to write this.
I was not ready for love
If it was something I should have instead of something I needed
An expectation instead of a desire
A commodity to be hunted instead of a wonder to be discovered
So when the word rolled off my tongue,
it was just as deformed as my visions of it.
And my heart knew it.

Fuck society's "love."
Fuck all your "That's great for you two!" and "Oh! Where are you taking her?"
Because quite frankly, my dears,
Love is selfish.
Love means that you don't give a damn what anyone else thinks
That this person means so much to you,
You'll brave the ire of any hardship for them
The fact that "she is my girlfriend"
Shouldn't mean a thing to anyone
But her and you.
It's your love, and no one else's
And while you may feel the need to tell somebody, tell anybody
Tell everybody
Don't wear love on your sleeve like some gaudy adornment
Because if it is love, you don't need to tell it
It shows itself.
Because if it is love, you don't need to confirm it,
You've already agreed.
Because if it is love, you don't need to share it
The one who needs to know already does.