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Ours is a complicated kind of love

Sweet like the honey off the cob

But in seconds could switch and attack like a swarm of bees protecting their hive

It stings


Ours is a complex kind of love.

Simple to the layman

But like the brain

We don’t know enough to make a good call.


Ours is a random kind of love.

A lion and a panther

Peanut butter and banana sandwich

An unlikely pairing, that hypothetical speaking could work.


Ours is a delicate kind of love.

Like an egg, hard on the visible exterior

With a thin layer of flesh

But would break at the slightest drop.


Ours is a painful kind of love.

A love that makes you stay up thinking about the other at night

Worrying about them more than yourself

And Hating them for trying to stay.


Ours is an addictive kind of love.

A sense of false satisfaction

Like being on a drug and knowing it’s bad for you

But wanting more because it feels so good.