Love is not an authority

Love takes you by the elbow, and steers you 

To the forest, bruising your arm like the bark he crushes 

beneath his feet.

They are flaking off the trees whose tops you can’t see, 

but you know

are glancing down.

Love seeps into your bones and it is bone cold,

your cells test the frigid air with a sigh.

The icy chasm of your throat swallows nothing but lucidity.

Love grabs you by the hand and throws you into a pirouette

then dips you backwards, and backwards still, into the caverns of time

where the air doesn’t tremor, even though you do,

and the walls have smoothened from irresistible touch,

and the glint in the dark keeps winking.

Love is not an authority, 

Love does not solve problems

Love does not forgive, love is not blind, 

Love does not know the way

there is no air,

and the smoothness was never meant to be, 

but, 

the glint was real, you swear. 

Love is not warmth and 

Love is not the angel.
Love is not the light.

Love leads you to the fork in the road, then leaves. 

Love doesn’t want to talk about it.