love is not enough

I need to have sex with someone I love, someone who loves me back.
Is love feasible?
It could.
Nothing in this world is sacred.
Innocence is. Just as sure as its perversion is profoundly profane.
And yet we always hurt the ones we love.
The ones we shouldn't hurt at all.
Do you love me?
I don't love you.
I love you.
I love you not.
I thought that could be enough.
It's not. But I do wish it were so.
Wishing is half the work.
Not really, no. Wishing is wishing, non plausible; if wishing was in fact half of what is wished, then it wouldn't be wishing at all.
Yet otherwise negotiable.
Perhaps.
It is. Wishing for something is getting up and getting it.
Unless you can't afford it.
Love can't be bought.
Can it be measured?
Perhaps, with the right ruler.
Should we just throw a coin into the wishing well, then, and hope for love to come flying to us?
Just make sure you grab it as it's coming up.
What if I don't?
If you don't, it's gone, it might fly too high and burn its wings.
How melodramatic.
That's what and how love's supposed to be.
Are you measuring it, then?
Maybe I have the right ruler.
I wish I could love you.
But you love me not.