conditional love

I shot you and

you shot me

in a wave of violence against humanity

and all we had were pictures to show for it.

I need your shot. You need mine.

I keep wanting to give them up. Yours, I mean.

To say I don’t belong

to these

pictures.

And then…and then…we keep showing up

in them

together.

Despite,

in spite of ourselves.

We keep showing up

to be together,

in spite of ourselves.

We can’t help it;

we can’t recant. is this love?

Is this love?