My love window’s face is shaped like a heart with the two sides evenly bursting, billowing at the top, meeting middle way as cleavage. The outer lines taper down, falling into parallel angles that meet in a pointy bottom with a kiss.

My love window’s language delivers romantic, platonic and global love when you open up its sash. It beats and breathes, pulses and lives in pinks, reds, sometimes blues when sad and green when fearful. Afraid to lose what it can’t own in the first place. Frustrated it was not meant for me anyways.