The Writers' Block Files

Rambles bc I'd rather write random drabbles than anything actually productive.
What is love? Is it joy, so bright and brilliant one thinks it can never end? Is it the sunrise blazing across the city in the morning, the cheerful birdsong that wakes you from your slumber? Is it the thrill of their hand in yours, caressing you lightly, setting your hand on fire and your heart into orbit? Nah. It's pain. Pain so sharp you can't even begin to describe it.
*Thanks to @rawrrebel for the cover!