love is a pool,
in which to drink through hardship.
bathed in warmth.
sweet weightlessness.

love is a pool,
that can be drown in, as false pretense   of depth tends to weigh tons with a
predetermined will.

love is a lake.
in which at times your lungs burn,
to which a breath is needed,
and a break delivered.
be wary of the safety of the surface.
the monsters lurk beneath.
some look through a mirror.
and i still intend to find every one.