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what love isn't


It is not a five-star stay. It is not
compliments and it is never ever
flattery.
It is solid. Not sweet but always
nutritious
always herb, always salt. Sometimes
grit.
It is now and till the end. It is never a
slither, never a little
it is a full serving
it is much
too much and real
never pretty or clean. It stinks—you can
smell it coming
it is weight
it is weight and it is too heavy to feel
good sometimes. It is discomfort—it is
not what the films say. Only songs
get it right
it is irregular
it is difficult
and always, always
surprising.


Yrsa Daley-Ward

Bone
Penguin


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