‘Love’ lingers on her lips. A word seldom said. A word that hurts to think about. A word that’s lost meaning. ‘Love’ lingers on the edge of lips that have kissed and softly seduced, but never felt the same affection in return, lips that have felt flesh beneath them so warm and soft and giving but never known the feel of fingertips gently touching them with intimacy, endearment. ‘Love’. She lets the word linger, lets it stay where it belongs just on the edge of her lips which were never meant for love, only for lust and warm embraces to never turn into anything more permanent. If the word ever escaped her lips the consequences would be more than she would be willing to deal with, the rejection or even worse reciprocation. No. ‘Love’ can linger all it wants, begging to be uttered while her body is wrapped around another’s , her lips softly pressed against warm flesh and quivering with delight. The moment will pass, she’ll push the word back down where it belongs, and she’ll thank herself for letting it stay on her lips and never come out, because she’ll be free to live without love, without love’s eventual destruction. ‘Love’ lingers on her lips, never to be spoken, never to be given the chance to diminish and decay.