Love

Love,
Is a complex series,
Of switches,
All thrown to yes,
By a chemical release,
Our body pumps off,
As part of a flight or fight mechanism.
A flight that picks us up,
Off of our feet,
And sends us soaring into the clouds.
And a fight that makes us unstoppable,
Fearless warriors of chivalry,
Dedication,
And kindness.
Love is our body,
Saying to our brian,
Ignore what you know,
And just feel for a while.
Love is an anesthetic,
That blurs the line between,
Who hurt us last time,
And who,
(most likely)
Will be the person who will do it next.
It’s the greatest gift we’re ever given,
Until…
(of course)
It’s ripped away.
Or fades away.
Or until the disappointment sets in,
When the chemicals wear off,
And we come to slowly realize,
That what we thought we had…
(love)
Was really just a cocktail,
Of internal chemistry,
Prompting us to say,
No…
To SCREAM!
“Yes! I do!”
Then reality sets in.
And love is only a sporadic gift,
That shows up late at night,
Or during a romantic song,
On a beach during vacation.
The rest of the time it’s just choice.
Choice to say love,
When what you mean,
Is a little more like appreciate,
Tolerate,
Am amused by,
Inspired by.
It’s more like,
I care for you deeply.
That’s what my experience tells me.
Or,
Told me.
That was my definition of love.
Now it’s just my definition of romantic love.
Because real love,
Love that doesn’t snap in,
And burst out,
Feelings that don’t fade or change,
They don’t drift out to sea and back,
With the ebb and flow,
Of passionate tides.
Real love is reserved for family.
Real love is for your children.
Nieces,
Nephews,
Cousins.
For your mom and dad,
Good or bad.
Brother.
Sister.
Love.
The worthwhile kind.
Is family.
Not just blood,
Family can be chosen,
Adopted,
Inherited.
The goal,
I suppose,
Is for family to become everyone.
Each man our brother,
Each woman our sister,
Each child our child.
So that we form a family,
Built only on,
And only for,
Love.