More or Less
Would I love you the same, more or less?
His hands heavy on your skin
left in purpose behind for a sin
to be nourish ‘til bloom.
And I know to belong takes more than a ring
or the passing of years
and what holds you together presumed
to be love and not fears.
But, does he loves you the same, more or less?
Does he smells your perfume like I do
on my pillow when I wish your embrace
wasn’t leftover dreams?
Tell me then if he sets you aflame
why you look for my face
and at night making love you remember
to bite hard on your lips
so you won’t call my name-
Do you love me the same, more or less?
“If he touched her, he couldn’t talk to her, if he loved her he couldn’t leave, if he spoke he couldn’t listen, if he fought he couldn’t win.”
― Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things