Love:
passionate affection or desire
for another person

A figurative roller-coaster,
the very thought of it excites and terrifies.
People wait in lines
for what feels like years --
sometimes they chicken out --
other times they strap themselves in.
Releasing themselves to the whim
of the mechanical beast,
they're powerless.
There will be moments
of pure ecstasy as they lerk forward,
plunging into the unknown.
Times of stillness will come --
sometimes the ride simply breaks down --
depending on the patience of the rider,
the ride might continue.
For most,
the ride will eventually end,
and they'll wait in someone else's line.
For few,
they'll ride that roller-coaster forever,
happily resting when all is said and done.

The single word that defines
all
                       of
                                               this
was obviously assigned by someone
who has never been on a roller-coaster.

…
You can cut me up,
carve me into any shape you desire.
Cut me down, even,
Wrap lights and tinsel around my dying limbs
until I cease to amuse.
Then throw me out,
to the street with the rest of them:
the girls you grew bored of.
As we sit on the curb,
fishnet tights and short skirts,
we're no taller than a Bonsai.
We could be beautiful and strong
with love and care,
But instead we've grown harsh and gnarled
trying to sell it instead.
…

It's cold down here,
the white cushions and blankets do nothing
to safeguard my withering body
from Earth's cold claws.
Remember when we used to sit in Summer's sun?
Ankle deep in baked sand
as the waves lulled us.
Remember how you held my hand the first time?
Side by side, we sat on that empty beach
our hands absentmindedly digging towards the core.
It wasn't until I was distant that I felt your fingers,
timid at first,
then coiling like a grape vine 'round a fence.
You remember, don't you?
It hasn't been too long?
You told me,
in that raining back alley,
that you wouldn't let me go.
You told me,
as I held your hand like a lifeline,
that I was going to be okay.
I kept listening,
through the rain and your tears,
for the sound of running footsteps
and the clinking of money in my purse as he ran.
Did you catch him?
Will he never hurt anyone again?
Please tell me,
so that I may feel some warmth in eternity.

Today I listened to our song.
The very thing that I avoided
like a plague that might **** me --
I forced myself through every second,
exactly three minutes and forty seven seconds.
Every note, measure, and lyric
was a shake in my once impenetrable fortress --
a reminder that even I am not perfect.