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It's Not Making Love

It’s not making love
It’s simply fucking
You don’t make love when you have sex
You make love when you laugh
Making love is when you look so deep into his eyes you see yourself
It is the moment you roll over just to find them
It’s the time you spend trying new foods
Making love isn’t the leg locking moans
Nor is it the neck biting, heart racing, bare naked moments
Making love is the moment he wakes me up
Seeing his face every morning as I try to roll over to sleep more
Making love is him pulling me out of bed with kisses ready
It’s when he looks at me with so much life in his eyes
It’s the moments I spend teasing him
The ones that are soon followed by him teasing me
To me, making love is when he mentions “our future”
It’s the talks on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night
Making love isn’t the moments we spend fucking after that conversation
It’s every laugh, tear, turkey sandwich, cuddle
Making love is the simplicity of his steady heart as I rest my body with his

(2015)

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