I compare my love for you to my driving.

Reckless.
Youthful.
Shouldn't be allowed.
Dangerous.

Yet I need it to get to where I want to go.

Everyone drives.
The ones who don't are content with that alone.

I shouldn't be allowed to.

I put my foot to the gas.
Trying to reach you.
Terryfying and exhilarating all at the same time.
But I'm all in.

Stop.

Abrupt.
Shock.
Fear.
Sorrow.

And it might just still be allowed.