Love

does not appear at first sight.

Obsession

does.

A flash of a glance at you

and I am a fish with a hook in the flesh of my throat,

struggling for breath.

I am choked in the presence of you,

smothered by you,

or by my need for you.

My eyes are only for caressing the curves of your face,

your body.

My ears are only for listening to your step,

your voice.

My lips are only for

only for you.

I have no self,

except with you.

My past doesn’t exist,

you weren’t there.

My present is you.

My future is you.

Where is the line between obsession and love?

I do not know.

The two are monozygotic,

distinguished only

by the fingerprints they leave behind.

I never know until it ends.

One is lustratory, the other an enfer.

Or perhaps?

Both are both.