Your love is cold sand.
Your love is a warm breeze in the fall.
Or maybe perhaps a shiver that once ran down my spine.
Or even my tears at night when I’m lonely.
But then it’s lightning and then it’s not.
A cemetery when somebody new has arrived.
The last page of an unread book.
The remnants of a forgotten song.
Your love is that time I ran out of breath.
Your love is running in the winter.
And lying about during the summer.
Your love is what I can’t have and what I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.
But then again your love is what I can’t feel.
And what I can barely grasp.
It’s the wind on a dark winter night.
Clothes fresh out of the dryer.
It’s when I meet somebody new.
And when I run into an old friend.
It’s the time I slept until three o’ clock in the afternoon.
And the time my heart leapt out of my chest.
I hate you.
But then again maybe I love you.