Love is a recycled word,
used and resused in time and again.
Love like so is that of a chliche,
brief and ultimately unfelt.

It is through its brevity that
we discover that it is all but
what it says it is.

Love is instead chaotic,
that which blurred lines
between affection and hatred
fuse into one and engulf you whole.

No one understands this more
than the veteran lover.
Whose heart has been broken and
torn and kissed together all over again.

This is loves sweet embrace.
It is vicious, passionate, understanding,
and complete insanity.
It is the turmoil that can give us purpose.
It is the purpose that will give us turmoil.

And I surrender to it.

I lick my lips,
They taste so sweet,
From my Starbucks drink.
I look outside,
The trees seem to hide,
Behind the thick gray rain.
It seems to wash away my pain.
How cliche,
Am I to think
About the heavy rain
Clink, clink,
The gutters are full,
Everything is just so dull.
This Tuesday afternoon,
Is dragging its feet,
Through this,  already long week.