The first date. The first kiss. Foreplay. Bodies touch creating friction. Gasps of air. Orgasm. Breathe. First, it’s I love you. Then it’s I hate you. Forgive. Makeup sex. I love you. I think I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Break ups to make ups. Mouths that touched now speak ill. Why is he acting like a dick? Repeat love making. Is he cheating on me? Does he love me? What’s happening to us? I love you. Don’t leave me. Love making turns to fucking. He stays, I smile. Tongues speaking doubts hidden behind false hope. Will we ever get our shit together? Who the fuck is he texting? She doesn’t trust me. Why does she love me? God, I love when that tongue touches my soul. Her p*ssy is too good. I fuckin’ love her. Sex becomes sparse. Fuck her. I can’t do this shit anymore. But I love her. Why the fuck is this so fuckin’ hard? Am I not enough? Is she enough? Is he enough? Are we enough? Love. Love so good, sometimes that shit gets you fucked up. But, what the fuck is love?