I don't know much
about love.
I know
I once promised a boy
on the school swingset,
pinkies intertwined,
small feet grazing the ground,
I would marry him.
I know
love is not simple
anymore.
It's hookups
and booze
and wandering hands
in dark corners.
I know
it's ripping yourself in half
and hoping the other person
has the decency
not to tear everything out.
I know
I want a better love
than sloppy nights
and forgotten days
and picture-perfect pairs.
I also know
I am terribly afraid
of being alone.
I fear that better love
is nonexistent.
Or at least
it will be
for me,
though I know
I deserve
more.