He's like loving
the midnight sky as it turns
from blue to black
his eyes intently yet
gently analayzing the
movement if your finger
tips.

He's like loving the
moment before a
roller coaster drops
when your stomach floats
in space
his mouth creasing slightly
at the corners making a
confused expression

He's like loving a brick wall
rough against exposed
feelings
his cold palms pressing
into old ink
until he realizes that he
doesn't look occupied at all

Everything about loving him 
is twisted
it's morphed into an angle
that projects odd configurations
of what should be and what is
his love for being in love
makes me want to believe him
makes me want to disregard
it all
and repaint myself
into a new picture
where I am someone who
deserves love
someone who stops questioning
and just does
fully committed 
with non-tainted feelings

His love makes me weak
fragile
sad
excited
and unwanted by anyone else
who ever tries to love me.