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what love isn't

It is not a five-star stay. It is not
compliments and it is never ever
It is solid. Not sweet but always
always herb, always salt. Sometimes
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

Yrsa Daley-Ward


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