love, love, or love?

and he said, as he looked at his face
in the melting ice of his drink
i couldn’t tell if she was
infatuated, or truly into
the truth of me, if she even cared about
my ugly guts and insides and all those
vulnerabilities i could be hiding,
but i think, he said,
her desires were stuck to
the surface of my skin
letting her heart feel all of the hollow
lies she convinced herself was love,
but really was just an empty shell pretending
to sound like the ocean in her head
and now she has me all messed up
wondering if the love i know is actually love
or if it was all just a lie i misread

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: penchant

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