Love: Terrifying and alluring.
If it was a sure thing, there would be no allure.
If it was caught in a net like a dying butterfly, it would be buried and forgotten. It needs to fight like a hornet, struggling to find a way out, unsure of whether or not it should use that painful stinger.
It is a dance where he is pulled into my space and I push him out of it. We switch places.
It's when sometimes we join, and sometimes we go our separate ways.
Always he is on my mind and I can't shut it off like a mere lightswitch.
It is a dazzling dangerous fire that has crept beyond the fireplace and is creeping across the floor, intent on destroying everything.
Without those flames, the cold would creep in and under the sheets.
I'd rather it threaten to burn the house down than go out and leave only darkness in its wake. Just another writer writing, trying to keep the cold away.