LOVE KILLS

“Ah me! Love can not be cured by herbs.” – Ovid

I found an old letter amongst some papers I was clearing out in my office today and I was slightly taken aback because amongst the detritus of work correspondence, old meeting agendas and yellowed timetables there was a billet-doux. Sweet nothings scribbled on a piece of lavender paper, a pet name, an envelope sealed with a kiss… That old flutter of the heart has long disappeared, but its memory lives on and it was enough for that little slip of lavender paper to bring old emotions to the fore, like dance steps that one automatically remembers, once the old tune begins to play.

One of the wonderful joys of love as it awakens within our heart is the bittersweet insecurity it breeds deep within us. “She loves me, loves me not…”, “Shall I speak or remain silent?”, “Is this true love or a simple infatuation?”. The joy of love is only one side of the coin, the misery of love is the other side of the coin. When we love we toss the coin up and await breathlessly for it to fall, hoping against hope that we win the toss…

Love Kills

I stand before you and will only say:
My love can thrill
My love can kill;
You choose, and tell me what will play.

You love me back and you shall see
My love will grow.
My love will throw
Back towards you, love thrice three.

As long as you will find the proper way,
My love will flourish
My love will nourish.
Or else, all will be death, an end, decay.

But even if all is as it should be, Love,
My love corrupts,
My love disrupts,
It brings all which lies below, above.

Beware, don’t tempt me, love me true;
My love can lie
My love can die,
You are the one who will decide my cue.

I stand before you and you’ll agree:
My love can thrill
My love can kill;
You choose, and tell me what will be.