Love is a monster that lives in your chest. While chained it lies quiet, dormant, but once unleashed it demands to be fed.
Well fed it purs like a cat, gives you strength and courage, warms you like the sun and makes every day seem more beautiful than the last. But if abandoned or left hungry it rages with fangs of steel and claws of ice and slowly eats at your heart from the inside until it finally starves, lonely in the dark and only a shadow of its former self.
My love is that monster called Passion. I want to kiss her again and again and again, make up for the time that we lost. I can't get enough of her even though I'm scared of smothering her. Every little tenderness she imparts on me makes my heart want to burst with happiness and I can't stop smiling. But the monster howls, knowing what is to come, knowing that the soothing radiance of her presence cannot last for long. And the thought of leaving her, the thought that this has to soon come to an end is like a burning knife in my chest. I can't breathe, I can't eat; I want to scream but I have no voice, I want to cry but I have no tears. I don't know what to do.