The Loss of Love

How to describe the dark, empty night, Or the blinding, driving blizzardy snow, I don’t know. I thought I knew, until I met you. Until then I was sure, I always knew what to do, eyes full of blue. But love is a liquid, and love can get hot, A little unstable, and predictable not, Love has no filters, it passes straight through, Where does it come from, why can’t it be true? Love is elusive; it changes its shape, And covers its tracks just before it escapes, Love is behind you, all around you, inside you, There to remind you, to free you, to seize you. But the loss of love, that will come too, In frozen shapes and skeleton hues, It simply has too. Follow the rutted path of lost love. Go down her spiraling case and suffocate, until finally she lets you go.