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?