Here's the Thing About Being in Love

Here's the thing

about being in love.

It's only true love

when both people feel

the same thing and 

lately

I've been second-guessing myself and 

self-conscience 

to the point

I'm procrastinating 

amongst other things

to spend time with ya,

when all we do is stare.

For all the staring we do,

it makes me wonder

if my eyes could speak,

   What stories would they tell?

Maybe,

we'd ask the same questions.

Maybe,

they'll say 

all the words I can't bring myself to put into words.

They'd probably the glory it is to be in full focus

with you being in the mainframe.

Maybe,

they ask when will things between us be different?

By different,

I mean finally finding the answer

as to how much more

of myself

is gonna have to be given as hush money,

as payment for my silence.

How much more

of myself is gonna have to be given

to help keep silent around you.

Cause the silence I feel isn't always forced,

it's more like wanted,

more likely on my end than anything, but

I tell myself it's what's best for us cause it'll ruin the mood, 

it'll disrupt any chances 

I have for us to get

past base one.

 Here's the thing about being in love.

It

never really stops as love,

yet

it slowly drifts you down

a peaceful and quiet time past

where that's all you think about.

It's almost kielbasa you stalk love

or 

it's the other way around, but

what difference does it make?

You don't know

nor 

do you really care,

but 

that's fine with you.

Here's the thing about being in love.

It's completely cool,

nerve-racking at first,

but cool.

Yet,

turns damn right Scary

when you make the discovery

the other person like you back.

Your heart goes into shock,

therefore 

the whole body follows behind.

Trailing behind infant-like little hatchlings

who's imprinted.

Here's the thing about being in love,

once it ends,

it doesn't really end.

No,

it never truly ends.

The reminisce stays behind,

bouncing between the freshly hallowed walls of your heart.

Giving you empty high hope that

it's not really over, 

that it's only just saying goodbye to return shortly, but

chances are it's just a dead deal, but neither you nor your heart is willing to

give that any thought,

any attention.

Here's the thing about being in love,

you sit there in random spots.

Writing endless poems,

other than you're in love. 

As a matter of fact, there are three types of love.

The love

where both of you have metal feelings.

Love,

that only you acknowledge and

the other person is completely oblivious to it.

Then there's

the love where you're in Love and 

the other person know,

but

is just there.

Like nails

dining deep into a chalkboard

yet

the squealing never stops.

The silence

is the nail after a while and

the

chalkboard ends up being the heart.

The words that are left to say

is limitless, but the speechless are numerous.

Love is weird, but so are dreams,

which this is,

when am I gonna wake up 

or

am I already awake?