some see love akin to softness, to a gentle gaze or a calming touch but to me love is a cold slap given on a winter night a wake up call when in the perfect daydream love is the way i think about him; the way it hangs so heavy around my heart like a noose that slowly tightens more with every thought and yet it is impossible to stop even as my circulation gets cut off because thinking about him is like breathing to me what petty trickery he plays me for a fool to make me choose between my wellbeing and my heart when he already knew my choice right from the start