Falling
              in
                    love
           with
    you
was its own intrinsic adventure,
that
        oh
            so
       typical
            whirlwind
of gathering knowledge
and settling the groundwork
for memories yet to be made.
But being,
                   ah,
being in love with you
is quite different, sir.
Falling, see, was a
                                               flash flood,
waters up to my neck
and I was drowning
in the emotion before
I could comprehend
it for what it was-
                                     love.
But being, being is a
                                             steady drizzle,
the kind that's light
and enjoyable. You sit
at the window watching
the steady stream and
listening to the tap
                    tap
             tap
and it seems it will never end.
So you go outside and
throw your arms out,
point your face up and
                  twirl
                             twirl
             twirl
with wild abandon.
Falling in love with you was
a head-spinningly exciting
experience, but being in love
with you is when I truly became
                                                          ­free.

I'm like a small child
stretching my arms up
and begging to be loved.
                                                  I love you.
                                                  I miss you.
I'm still waiting for you
to show me the proof
behind your words.
                                                  I wish I could
                                                  be there with you.
Come, be with me then.
Why do I keep waking
up alone?

I give out so many mixed signals
even I can't hope to understand
all the contradictions, though
that doesn't make them any
more intentional. I assure
you that I see exactly
what I am doing
though I'm
powerless
to stop,
because
each
conflicting
word and action
is precisely what I'm
feeling in that moment. So
with each passing day my feelings
seesaw back and forth, and we're just
stuck in the seats, unable to walk away
from the ride in which I have entrapped us.

.                          To seek                  out love
                       is a letdown         in the making.
                    They feed your     heart with all the
                false words, but the moment you try to  
             grasp on to that love it turns out they were
           just using an accumulation of sounds that do
          nothing but disguise their lust.  For that's all it
             is underneath. Peel back the proclamations
                of love and adoration, seek out the truth,
                      the purpose of the utterances, and
                          maybe you'll be able to peek a
                             glimpse at the truth within.
                                They say they love you,
                                     *******, they just
                                        want to ****
                                               you.