Love can not be bought—

trust me I’ve tried.

Powdering

my face

with attractive paint,

Eating

only slightly

to obtain

luscious curves,

Dressing

my form

to slay

my opponents

(and have men’s

jaws drop).

I’ve tried

to shoot arrows

into my victims,

but I am not Cupid

(I’m just some nobody).

I don’t have

potions

to make hearts

bleed

and arms

embrace.

I don’t have

enough

beauty

to hide my pain.

(I don’t have anything).

I’ve studied countless hours

trying to figure out

what I must say next

or what I must do next

to be the best woman

and get the best guy

(or girl...).

(But you can’t methodically

maneuver your way into love).

I’ve tried to buy

their hearts

by buying their minds,

but I’ve realized

(that love is priceless)

that I cannot

force someone to love me

no matter how hard I try.

(And maybe that’s for the best).

The price of love is not one worth paying-

Late nights at the pawn shop trading blind trust and optimisim for sunset kisses.

Cashing in vulnerability when I am already so weak.

To fall, hoping you will catch me.

But what if you don't?

What happens when I must pick myself off the ground, wash the blood away from my broken heart in the bathroom sink and stick a colorful bandaid over the wound, knowing full well that the bright pink doesn't make anything better?

And, still worse, what if I let you fall?

What if I can't catch you in time?

You are shaking now, curled in my arms, and I act like I can give you the world when I just spit empty lies.

"It will be alright."

"Things get better. You'll see."

We are just two broken people, trying to fill the cracks in our hearts with a love we have never been shown.

It's too much. I drive the wedge between us deeper with each careless word.

We'll break, eventually.

Shatter, like glass bottles hitting a brick wall.

I look into your eyes, watching as our moments together tick-tock away, wishing I could grab one, stick it in the back of my empty wallet for a rainy day.

It scares me, to think one day your warm body will not be pressed against mine.

But for now

I pay for the raw emotion between us

with everything I have left.

I just hope one day I will have given enough.

Fifteen minutes of love is only twenty bucks at the Springfield Flying J Truck Stop. She ran off from the place a few months back when the manager of the joint grew soft on her, but his business fell so slack so that he had to get her back, no matter the cost. Fortunately, it wasn’t hard for Pete to find her. She was only one exit down, at the Circle 10 Fuel and Fireworks.

Her name is Windy, and like a vacuum she sucks in the big rigs, giving her drivers not just the quick pump and go, but a warm shower afterwards too, and a bite of cherry pie at the counter. She truly loves those truckers, so she throws herself into the job, and in so doing she keeps those lonely men coming for miles around.

It was really all her fault, and Windy knew it. Like any good employee, she tried to be sweet to the boss, even to suck up a little, but when Pete started balling her out about laying down on the job, it made satisfying her customers extremely tricky. I mean, how can he tell her to shut her trap and get to work when getting to work required her to open it? Sheesh!

But all is well that ends well! As with any dispute of this type, the remedy is only a little give what you get. Pete gave Windy a healthy raise, Windy gave Pete a good tongue lashing, and everyone at The Flying J benefitted from the pair’s happy new working relationship. (Everyone except HR, that is.)

And so fifteen minutes of love is still only twenty bucks at the Flying J Truck Stop... but if you happen to get soft on Windy, she’ll make it hard on you!

The price of love is the realization that it's a betrayal

Love is a rope desperately being held onto

Clinging to hope even when love no longer has time

to wait on your climb anymore

The price of love is it's inevitable drop

Falling

Falling

Falling down

The price of love is the realization that it's a salvation

Somewhere between the fall

and the conception

Lies a pecuiluar space

Where rising into love takes place

After falling to lowest lows

It's time to fly to highest highs

The price of love is ever-changing perception

Love is more than

One person

One place

One memory

The true price of love

Is the veil being lifted

To see that love exists within

and all around

The price of love is not counted in coins.

Its worth is not measured in green paper...

But oh, how it costs us.

The price of love:

One elopement, desperate to be with you but not enough money for a proper celebration.

Two homes, never able to stay in one place, no matter how much we want to settle down.

Three states, unable to figure out where to go next.

Four years spent saying goodbye when it took so long to get to "goodnight."

Five mascara smudges on my pillow because the other half of my heart is missing.

Six pairs of socks in the drawer that you forgot when you shipped out.

Seven holidays spent staring at the wall when I should be in your arms.

Eight months of solitude, of touch starvation and deafening silence.

Nine times I've prayed to any god who might listen to bring you back home safely.

Ten fingers longing to be warmed by your skin.

...and I would pay every penny I have to do it all again.

The price tag has been torn away

It's unraveling at its seams

Does this mean that love is priceless,

Or could the cost of love be free?

I don't know why I had to have it

I can't remember what caught my eye

Why didn't I see the price I'd pay

For not resisting, as I walked by.

Love will wrap it's arms around you

It can feel warm or cold as ice

If you place your bets on love

you're gonna have to pay the price.

Living a lie your in love with

Loving no living in which the lie exist

Everywhere you look a new love gets its hooks in you

In the end. If you can still hear the inner ear commentary of your every move. Your lucky/smartly aware

Strive to be left near the end with the love of at least the only one that matters. Yourself

Once this Love is found. The possibility of yet undiscovered sources of love. Remain nearly limitless.

The only boundary to contend with is the extent of ones own imagination.

If it’s not growing constantly broader if only by the smallest of margins..........

The price of love is time

Woven empty into the early hours

Collecting like plum-colored rain under my eyes

How many days have you given to anxiety?

Is it enough to be in love?

Is is fragile and bleeding blue in the moonlight?

Tell me

Or skip stones on my skin

Leaving bruises like reminders

Hold my hair back

And waltz with death

Braided brass under my bones

The price of love is unkown

Carved into your canine teeth

And buried under promises