“Do I love her?”
Still this question haunts me,
Each second with her, thinking of her
Doesn’t go without its presence

“Do I love her?’
My lips go numb at the prospect,
My palms drenched with sweat
It feels as if she has a grip of my heart
And she’s squeezing each time
I attempt to wring myself free

“Do I love her?”
God ******, what a stupid notion
No, this is lust, erratic hormonal passion
I don’t find bliss in her detestable smile,
Nor her intoxicating laugh, and the
way her lips slightly quivers when
she pouts, it’s all vile. I just
want her body, not her heart
I repeat this lie to myself
To the point of redundancy,
Even my own lies have become
Pathetic to me

“Do I love Her?”
I’ve lost breathe, she’s swiped it from me
with her presence, how I can I be so weak,
so fragile, a person made of bone and flesh
shouldn’t have this control of me.
I refuse! Next time I see her
I’ll declare my hatred, purely out of spite.

“Do I love Her?”
I approached her so ready,
Prepared to cut her out of my life,
To free myself of the infection she is.
My moment of liberation was upon me,
Until she ruined everything by talking.
Being the thief she is, she stole my power to hate

“Do I love her?”
I’ve accepted my damnation to this question,.
now, when the thought returns
I nod