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
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.