an old excerpt

Do you remember the flutter of love at first sight, that cliché of clichés knocking upon the metal, barred door of your delicate alabaster heart. Slowly the blood trickles into the walls of your heart, growing stronger, pumping louder, with vigour. Hope springs eternal. You start to believe in magic. The world seems like a miniature globe in the palm of your hands. You wake up to the prospect of the next minute, the next hour, the next moment of pure contentment. The face of your loved one melds itself into your memory, every crease, every wrinkle, and every out of place hair. You adopt his habits and he eases himself into your routine. The blossoming of your relationship becomes a dance. You dream of today, tomorrow, forever wrapped in his enveloping love. Love is the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired. So says, Robert Frost. The power of love bowls you over. Even as you start to see that love sits dangerously close to hate and anger simply because of the intensity of the passion. You hover on the brink of destruction, knowing that your dependency renders you ever so fragile. Then you await that blasted hour, when it comes crashing down. You are left at ground zero. Disease sets in, subconsciously invited. Once you knew your love was a lie, or at least held too big a missing piece to the jigsaw, nothing else makes sense anymore. Your weakened body tells the disease, take me now. And so you fade away into a greying mess of nothingness. Nothingness.