Love

Love.

A thing. No, a feeling. It burns though. A feeling that burns? Rips and slithers under your flesh. A type of movement that is so unreal, very unreal.

Love.

A beating of a chest, a heart. The easy feeling of blood swimming in you, calming you down. But then you see them. It's weird. A turn here and there. A pound inside you. You couldn't hear it properly but you could feel it. So powerfully and potently feel it inside you. A great lush of warm redness. A warm redness that loves you like how you love them.

Love.

Because it hurts too. An affection, a massive and engulfment affection that hurts. Munching and yearning. Longing for the love and power of whatever happens.