Sometimes love
is really just a (g)love
comfort for the cold
( This is like saying
that ain't amour,
it's just (g)lamour.)
Sometimes you wear it
Sometimes it fits
Sometimes it doesn't
All garments
get old
tattered
But when it is just that: L-O-V-E
(With no hidden letter
Preceding the matter)
Then it is like butter
Melting
In the frying pan
Or the sharp pain
of a babe
biting on tender nipples
Yes, it is like Milk
Warm
And Nourishing
Or the hot unshed Pulsing Blood
of a dear Son
held down in Sacrifice
The Sultan of the Hearts
Mixes a specific potent mix
For each specific Lover
Love is sweet and bitter wine
poison
potion
Part Pain
Part Pleasure
Always to treasure.