What do we call the feeling we get,
That spark in our brains,
The fire in our heart,
The electricity running through our veins
Pumping through us.
We call that passion.
I want passion mommy.
What do we call it,
When passion turns to a need,
That flutter in our stomach,
The beating in our chest,
The obsessive desire.
We call that love.
I want love daddy.
What do we call that feeling we get,
When the passion has burned out,
Far behind our prominent thoughts,
The little voice telling us something isn’t right.
We call that suspicion.
I don't want to be suspicious mommy.
And how about the pain in our hearts,
The ache in our body when that suspicion is right.
When we still feel the love,
the flutter and the obsessive desire,
The want and the need.
But the suspicion was right,
We have to admit it.
We feel every pain we didn't know we could feel,
Our world has been shattered.
We call that heartbreak.
I don’t want my heart broken daddy.
Please tell me I won’t get my heart broken.

-T