some see love akin to softness,
to a gentle gaze or a calming touch
but to me love is a cold slap given on a winter night
a wake up call when in the perfect daydream
love is the way i think about him; the way it hangs so heavy around my heart
like a noose that slowly tightens more with every thought
and yet it is impossible to stop
even as my circulation gets cut off
because thinking about him is like breathing to me
what petty trickery
he plays me for a fool
to make me choose between my wellbeing and my heart
when he already knew my choice
right from the start