Momma once told me,
of a type of love not everyone gets to see.
But the way she described it
didn’t quite fit,
those fairy-tales and storybooks
because she described it as some type of crook
that took without you realizing
in the midst of your fanaticizing.
She described it as a hurricane,
the intensity, breathtaking beauty, the danger,
how it’ll change you, until you yourself are a stranger.
But it is beautiful,
that’s irrefutable.
Yet, I was still confused,
at how not everyone got this, was it really just a ruse?
My mother simply stared, looking quite bemused.
She said, “Most people are afraid, afraid to let themselves go”
Which at first confused me, for where would they go? But now I know.
It’s dangerous because it can destroy you,
you’re supplied a front row seat to something that could **** you.
And suddenly, the hurricane made sense,
this type of love is way beyond intense.
But, I’m running toward it with reckless abandon,
searching for my reckless companion.
My mother was right,
it’s such a beautiful sight.
But something she didn’t tell of, is this after peace
that the craziness does cease
and if you survive, lucky enough to be revived
you know without this type of love, you’re nothing but deprived.