and it’s gentle.
It rages. It cries.
Selfish and selfless.
You don’t want it to leave,
yet sometimes you have to let it go.
You want to cry out towards it.
It makes you feel alone.
It can be misdirected,
You think you have Love
then you think it’s nothing.
It is supposed to make you happy,
but all it does is make you cry;
you want to tell the world you feel it,
but don’t know if it’s a lie.
You beg it not to leave you,
then you wonder when it will fizzle out.
Love is sick, twisted, and fickle
–and turns you inside out.
I know all this for fact
because I have been victimized;
caught in its web of deception,
entrapped in its crime.
(C) Marie Meyers, 2013