I wrote and posted this poem May 22, 2011. I found it accidentally just a couple of minutes ago, when I was looking for something else. And now I’ve forgotten what that something else is.
You look for love, when love is all there is.
You can be numb to love, but you can’t exist outside it.
You say, “What about hate? Hate is not love.”
But love wants you well. Hate is love’s bitter pill.
You don’t know, or perhaps you’ve only forgotten:
Life is another word for love. It means “I will.”