OF COURSE, THAT IS MY LOVE
Love will tap you on a shoulder, and when you turn,
you'll realize it hasn't got a face.
She will hide in your breath,
run down your gut into the stomach
tickling or kicking depending on her mood.
She will spill herself over your skin itching and burning.
You will hear her echoing your voice when you are laughing or weeping,
but you won't hear a word.
She will make you look silly when putting a new hat on,
trying to look important when you are miserable if not in her mercy.
She will torture you in the night forcing you to tell her stories she already knows.
She will be suspicious of your smile and intolerant to your tears
if they are not about her. Love is a tyrant.
She will become one with you only to make sure you really love her.
Love will not stand objections, she will take complaints as insults.
She will call you names if you speak anything but sweet to her.
She will enter your heart freely, without ever asking,
and she will slam the door leaving if anything bores her.
Love gets irritated easily.
She is annoyed by trifles.
Of course, that is my love.
