My love is a judge.
A cold judge with a heart made of stone.
You couldn't call it love.
The more appropriate word would be test.
My love is a test
Put forth by the judge.

If I move away,
If I speak quietly or
If I don't speak at all
It is all held against me.
Evidence for the other side.

My love seems so hopeless,
Like catching and trapping air
In my bare hands.

He wants me;
It seems like he really wants me
And I want him, so badly,
But I can't.
I've tried to speak up for myself
But my words travel to the back of my mind
Instead of streaming out of my mouth,
Like the butterflies always nestled
In my stomach.

Love is a risky thing.
I can't picture us being together
Without whispering and ridicule.
It's so beautiful
But at the same time so horrible.

Love is a drug,
An ecstasy.
So distracting that you forget your friends.
And for what?
One look.
A voice,
A gorgeous, but hesitant voice;
A mystery.
That mystery that pulls you out of bed each morning,
And brushes your teeth.
But love was,
Is
And will always be
Nothing.