Rendition of Love

You asked me how it felt to be in love. I've finally found my tongue.

It makes me sore all over. It gives me big, round pains that I nourish at 3am with wine and candlelight. It exposes my idiosyncrasies. It gives me a taste for soul food, and for giant stacks of pancakes after zealous, drunken lovemaking. It causes me to cleave canyons into my memory and cling to your body like a dress. It causes me to tolerate any love song. It makes me spend money. It makes me aware of the way my eyelashes frame your face. It allows me to be any kind of outlaw. It polarizes me from normalcy.

It takes from me a little bit of the ground I rest my feet on. It closes off a section of my brain for you and you alone. It moves me to evolve, grow gills, or horns, or lose hair, if need be. It seeps out of the corners of my eyes and leaves black traces on shirts and pillowcases. It borrows. It creates. It wants. It causes me to be childishly silly, and giddy on weekdays. It is its own excuse. It makes watching any movie a potentially sorrowful experience. It delegates songs to act for words and kisses.

It aids in paranoia. It pushes my sleep patterns to odd angles, knowing what it feels like with you in my bed. It originates patterns in nothing. It makes me fear the word "ruin". It gives me faith enough to wear a blindfold - or pearls - if ever coaxed. It fogs up my mirrors and unties my shoelaces. It exhausts me. The next day, it energizes me. It makes me consider the concept of soul. It fills my picture frames and empties my fridge. It requires devotion and renewal.

It will sometimes taste stale, but is ultimately made of butter. If you try to abide by laws it will cause a cosmic catastrophe. Only love can make you rich and only love can make you impossible promises. It gives me insights Socrates would shudder at. It prevents my heart from stopping. It has never steered me into regret, for it's only love, after all. It is the first thing I hear when I wake up and the slow and steady pulse that pushes me into sleep. In life it is an act of God, an inevitable accident, leaving its unavoidable casualties.

It's what I'm comfortable with. It's what I'm good at.