Must Be...

"This must be love."
That's the only explanation my mind can fathom.
the anxiety and frustration
tears and strained voices
clenched fists and stress lines
the migraines and sore spirit?
This must be love.

Fun can be had with anybody,
and fights can be made w/ anyone
but to still want to fight + have fun,
after the laughs pass away
and the smoke + dust clears
is a truly special realization.
This must be love.

But...I wouldn't put love through that,
would love really do that to me?
It's possible...but so is just about anything.
Maybe I was in love with the thought,
moreso than the true definition and meaning.

I've paid the price for what I thought was love...
more times...
than all of my trips to Vegas and bets on games,
heart stolen from my chest, a repeated crime...
only for me to not file a police report,
and eventually catch her on my own...
steal my own shit back, the OJ way...
and hear Love beg and plea to me
how I shouldn't lock my heart in a safe,
how it's safe to leave it out,
no harm will be done, really...
And everytime, I fall for it:
hook, line and lover.

"This must be love."
That's what I tell myself.