It seems for love to flourish, it must be reciprocated
By two individuals with fully functional hearts.
Each half in the whole must be, in their own respect,
Complete. For when there is an unequal abrasion,
In the equation that is fidelity, there may not be finality,
And it seems entirely likely that one of the two parties,
May never venture into the realm of self-revelation.
The law of mutual interaction, which guides attraction,
Is a flawed condition—for adulation commits itself
As anguish—an ache perpetuated like a bullet shot…
Not as a necessity, but as the result of mistimed affection.
Perhaps, for passion to fully exist, it must be elected
By two partners who both feel peace of mind—
So there is balance betwixt the happiness of both lovers,
Where pride and ecstasy can, and will always, coexist.
Trepidation of the heart is a dangerous concoction,
A mixture of emotions which should not be stirred—
Love is not a remedy, rather, it is a reward—
A gift exchanged between two paramours.
