For Him

what exactly is love?
is it the unrelenting loneliness,
only alleviated when that one,
special person steps through the
door?
or calls you or texts you,
or even clicks that stupid,
ridiculously annoying,
highly addicting 'poke'?
It's war with him, now
that he's started it. And
I will mostly certainly
WIN.
or is love that fear you
feel when they don't show up,
or drop a line, or let you know
that they're alright? Knowing
that they're the only one who makes
you feel that way. that no one else
really matters to you as much
as they could ever matter. ever.
no, I say, no. It is the ever-fixed
distraction of thoughts, making me
forget grammar and structure,
because I'm too busy thinking of
him to give a flying f*ck about
anything but where he is
and if he's safe and sound,
and when he'll get here to my
ever-loving, ever-trusting,
ever-open arms.