i write my words laced with love
but i have never even tasted it
and never have ever felt its flavour
glide against my tongue
and on the surface of my lips
never once held such in my hands
or even felt it graze upon my fingertips
but there are few instances
in which i thought it was love
as sweet and raw as it was
but it was no more than the sliminess of infatuation
and the bitter coldness of a crush.