Love.
Love.
Such a small word.
But when you say love me, my heart begins to flutter like the wings of a bird.
They lift me into the sky and I feel like I am finally beautiful.
That one little word triggers a change inside me.
It is the catalyst that triggers the reactions within my body.
Turning caterpillars into butterflies; their wing beats matching the cadence of my heart.
Love.
They say I am too young to know what love is.
You hardly know the boy!
It's just some school yard crush!
School yard crush?
This is no crush, this is a volcano bubbling and smoking inside my body.
On the edge of an eruption but always, always lying dormant.
Because of love, I will never explode.
Love.
It's the rain that causes flowers to bloom in the scars on my hips.
Like sonnets, and poems; Gospels of God falling from my lips.
I was never a poet.
Until I met you.
And I became Shakespeare, and Byron, Neruda and Shelley.
Love; like the dulcet tones of a song crooned into a microphone in a dark cafe.
It is an ethereal, indescribable feeling that is impossible to convey.
I love you.
3 words; 8 syllables.
And they cannot begin to explain the way I feel for a boy from a small town far away.
