Love at 15
You will know that she belongs to you when you begin to feel her wrapping her arms around you when the sun is up, and setting a weight on your chest when the moon switches places with the sun. She sings to you, fulfills you with pure joy. Then she puts a bullet in your skull, causing you to feel more dead inside than you will when your grave gives you the call. She dances with you, takes you on trips that fill you with ecstasy, leaves you on an all new high that makes you question the heavens above that your mother and every other God fearing soul tells you of. She shows you all types of twists, turns and elegant motions. You're amazed; she is beautiful. She is everything, she is everything. Then she is gone. You fall into a deep abyss of eternal despondency and slumber, only to have her awaken you with a kiss that holds one million and one suns, moons, and stars. She is light... She is doom... She is love. The most utterly befuddling part of life that science could never define, because nothing can describe how love can root ones mind, soul and body. How it could make you shed tears made of glass, leaving you with invisible scars. How it creates a pocket of obsession in your mind. Not your brain, but your mind. You see, the brain is the bedroom, the mind is what adds the lights, color and the sense of safety. It is its own person. When love comes into play the lights go dim, then bright. The walls change colors and you stare at them in amazement. You don't know if you're safe anymore, your feelings have been killed and brought to life and you don't know what's real anymore. You don't know whether love is real anymore. She disguises herself. She has to get to you, she has to finish her game. She feeds off your confusion, your lust, your desire. How will you ever know if her game has ended. Even years of loyalty and consistent morning kisses could be snatched away faster than it arrived. But sometimes you do know. Because every love you ever thought you had becomes a distant memory. A facade. You begin to feel hugs from yesterday when you and them are apart. You begin to envision the smile that greeted you the first time you ever saw them. You think of life without them existing anymore, you become them and you will see that they have become you as well. You begin to see past their exterior. You see them. Both of your souls become intertwined to the point that you've thought of the most drastic scenarios and know in your heart that you would still choose them. The tears they cry become your tears, the blood they bleed calls yours name faster than a mother can at dinner. Their happiness and joy fills your stomach because you have never seen a more gorgeous sight in your life. When you're scared, and you can feel their hand holding yours even though they're miles away, that's when you know love was there. I forgot to explain that love has clones. Enemies that pretend to be her. She has other forms of energy that imitate her so well you can't tell the difference. Love is the world's greatest form of magic, and the magician never tells her secret.