It’s not love but attachment
as strong as dry blod on cloth.
It’s not love but desire
as recurrent as thirst in the tropics.
It’s not love but a promise,
that you want to seal magically,
when there’s nothing preventing you
from defaulting.
It’s not love but escalation
of a primary intention
to consacrate your time
to that special person.
It’s not love, for to love
to really love is aimless,
utterly impersonal.
So don’t ask me to love you
as I do with everything, ask me rather
to always want you.
