...love bites

What is it in love

That can neither let be,

Nor let go?

Why is it that my tears

Never fail to lather

At your feet

And yet, the ache

Mellows with a word

Or a touch, faint.

In the moment after the next,

The smile breaks

And the heart rests

In a placid silence.

Yet, I know,

The ache would resurface

Painting itself a new hue.

And even in the joy

Of the night's passion,

Or the warmth of the embrace

Of your repentance,

It longs for the pain.

My masochist soul

Longs to bleed, to thrive

Off your anger, your hate-

For without this pain,

My love is commonplace;

And I am just another somebody.

Or should I say,

Just another nobody?