Allow me to share a view from above.
A collective perspective on this mysterious thing called love.
When an opposite attracts and fits you like a glove,
makes you feel alive, soaring high up like a dove,
then I believe you may be suffering from a little thing called love.

The infection is a silent one, a surreptitious dart,
dashing faster than the speed of light, targeting your heart.
This illness will indulge you, misleading at the start,
but later you will realize its imperative playing part.

The symptoms are inexorable, impossible to stop.
You’ll be experiencing a lot of dreaming,
staring daily into space
with a ridiculous frozen smirk planted firmly on your face.

Your imagination will be animated, a heavenly montage,
exposing in luminescence, her angelic visage.
The silhouette of her body haunting your reminiscence,
as you crave every part of it, stripping you of innocence.

The passion is the exhilarating part, blowing you away.
The connection that you foster, growing stronger by the day.
So let this epidemic grow, give Cupid back his bow,
for love will be the best sensation, you will ever know.