Love has diagnosed me Bipolar.

Yet I feel cheated.

No one explained Love to me.

It sat in my chest fluttering, exhausting its delicate wings in our church pews.

Spun imaginative stories I hoped would turn into dreams while I awaited sleep.

It dilated pupils of any boy who found me in the apple of his eye.

Then,

It led me astray, chasing the intangible.

Lust imitated Love…

Naive lips using it interchangeably.

Intimate Alternatives. 

3 words to deaf ears.

How could I feel so passionately about something I did not understand?

Cloud nine euphoria

and seconds later miserable emotional tantrums.

Bipolar is an understatement.

I say “I love you” and “I hate you” in the same sentence…

I’ve crossed the thin line back and forth and back.

Wanting to break skin with my thoughts…

and in the same breath

Mend bruises my words etched with gentle kisses.

I lose myself then find parts of it strewn across the Ex-factor(s)

Ignorance is Bliss?

Everyday is a fight to stay hopeful.

Virtuosity is diluted with no obligation to be committed.

How can one word, be so damn powerful?