What exactly is good love?

It wasn’t the Mom who was present but never there

It wasn’t the step father who was a monster

or any of the other step fathers who weren’t as harsh

Or the adults who told you how bad they felt about the way you were treated as a child

It wasn’t the cheating man or the angry husband

Not the fist that caught your face in rage

Not the blade that eased the pain

Its not the room where you spent most of your time

Its not the loneliness that is ever present…

Its not the venomous words spoken

And not the right words left unsaid

How do we accept something we are not familiar with?

Something so foreign?

So what exactly is good love?