Why do I love?                                                    
Is it because I want to feel loved in recoil or is it the thought of love in absentia soldiering me to asset love.

Tell me what love is?

Love is the reason I want to get out of bed early in morning to watch the sunrise in her presence,                                           
Love makes my feet numb and my heart seek solitude whenever she stands next to me or sit beside me in the bus on the journey to free my heart.                                                  
Love takes authority of your heart’s emotions desire that feel like a burden, not to her they aren’t,                                                  
Love gives you perception, to see her for who she is, not what she can’t be but what she’s worth.                                                           ­ 
Love is a ****** who invariably needs rehab to stay on track and feel alive where there’s oblivion in array.

Ask me what love isn’t?  

Love isn’t waiting for you across the street,
Love wants you to play a game of chase, chase me if you fancy me love said.                                    
Love isn’t a pack of sheath you keep in your ripped side pocket jean for a quickie,                                                         ­              Love isn’t a puppy nor a cub you can teach to play a game of fetch nor play dead,                                                            ­  
Love isn’t your wrecked black sedan you can panel beat back to its mint right condition,                                                       ­ 
Love isn’t your typical Cinderella fairytale were the glass slipper is fated to fit foolproof,  
                  
Why do I love you asked!      
        
I love to know love, what it’s like to put her in rehab ahead of enemy lines and what it’s like to see the perception of her own personification.