Senses of Love

Some people think the word “love” is said too often nowadays. I disagree. I savor “love”; roll it around like a mint on my tongue. I luhv the way you pull me towards you; we are two magnets, opposites. I lahv your taste: you taste like the city, like oil and sweat and exhaust fumes; intoxicate me like the alcohol I’ve never had. I loov your voice. Your voice is dusk and cigarettes, phone calls at 2 a.m. saying you’re sorry, you’ll never see him again. I luff your feather pillow how you always give it to me when I sleep over how it smells like you and salty like tears. I lohv the fact that you bleed blood red, like me, and that you told me it has the tang of a newly minted penny. I “love” you; your essence your “soul” and I could and will find a thousand ways to say it with just one word.