At all

What is love?
A red heart scribbled on the tablecloth?
Your name and mine, the rising of the sun?
A whispered question?
Your dying answer...

No answering exists, my love
But a humble suggestion...

The drops of despair running down my cheeks.
A foul parade of lies, retorting each to each
That come back just to spit their speech to me.
A death desire.
A rising, dying fire.
A vacuum.
You and your youness
And me
And nothing less.

No answering exists,
But the wondering never ends...