Love is not an abstract any longer
it is no pronoun
no vague sensibility inducing disease
eyes do not flutter
legs do not jelly
the tight corsets do not let them swoon and sway
entranced by the beckoning shanty of love

Love has become tangible in my fingers
it escapes past like sand
draining downstairs until each individual step is covered in it
I know I will slip if I hurry
and love will not catch me
nor its host