I’ve never understood the word or it’s meaning or what people mean when they say they love you—
Maybe love is a person or maybe it is a book. Perhaps it is a sparkly black dress that was not once worn, or a bottle of Jameson that rests on a glass slab, waiting—
Everyone has got their own definition of love, I guess. I once wrote down 17 pages worth of definitions, but I didn’t know then what I know now.
For me, love was a faded sticker at the back of my laptop, that needed to be peeled off and replaced—
Love is not a sticker.
Maybe love is a shapeshifter.
Because now it has started to look a lot like a rain-soaked, black, Adidas sweatshirt.
It changes a little, everyday.
On some days, it resembles grey headphones and a window that overlooks an art gallery.
And on others—
It looks like a half exhausted Jasmine scented candle.
