I love her, but she must hate me cause the way she is treating me makes me hurt. I love her and she knows it. She plays coy and I am a Know-It-All. I know this because she plays dumb. She can act as though I could be less than the ground she walks on, but she calls and makes it obvious that this is not a decision she takes lightly. I love her. I thought about her most of the last 4 years, daily. I can’t help it; it must be a disease. Love, that is.
Fornication. Well, fornication is fun, but at what point does it become excessive? Fornication does not equal love, yet most people in love do it. Even when I am not in love I sometimes indulge. For better or for worse, fornication is taxing and points one in the wrong direction. Erection aside, I think that most of the girls and guys out there enjoy it just as much anyone they just have different ways of going about it. We are each unique in our own special way and this most likely comes out when it comes out. Ha, ha. I hope you got that.
Obsession. Thinking about someone day for the last 4 years could be an obsession, but I highly doubt it. Thoughts of this person have not been the same; there has been a massive influx of opinions about said person. She can be clear and calm, she can be rude and rash, she can be a human, I guess. I wish this human was more like clay than rock so I could mold her into something I desire, but that wouldn’t be love would it? She told me not to wish anymore.
Love. Love is bad. Love is good. Love is fucking me when I have morning wood… Love is old. Love is young. Love would probably not threaten you with a gun… Love is direct. Love is clear. Love looks you in the eyes and whispers in your ear… Love is distant and felt. Love is close and dealt. Love is someone who undoes your belt…