Love is not hickies marking paths down your body,
Love is not a blanket on the grass in the middle of a park.
Love is not mistaken kisses with his best friend.
Love is not lace underwear slipping to your ankles,
or lips at the edge of your bra and down your stomach, or hands in your hair.
Love isn’t even hands finding their way beneath denim and lace,
and Love definitely isn’t the silence I’m met with after giving myself to you.