"The courage of the poet is to keep ajar the door that leads into madness."

-Christopher Morley

What's behind all those sweet glances?

                                Those clasped hands?

                                Those tender embraces?

What's behind the streetside kisses?

                          The smuggled love notes?

                          The slow dancing?

Is something lurking?

    Something no one can see?

                        No one can understand?

                                      Can love have an ugly underside?

    besides all that everyone sees?

But maybe not.

Maybe the clasped hands are just clasped hands.

             The sweet glances just sweet glances.

             The tender embraces just...

No. I'm sorry, but no.

I've never been that deep, but I still know.

My days were daydreams.

My nights were nightmares.

Some of them, at least.

It was so sweet...

so sweet that sometimes

                                it sickened me.

No, it wasn't perfect.

But nothing is.

Yes, there will be daylight.

But in the midst, midnight.

So lovers fight. Fight for each other.

Fight with each other.

Fight to the next morning. The next moment,

When the underside is under

and the only scars are hidden in their eyes.

Their eyes locked together in momentary bliss.

What did I do?

What did I say?

Why did he act like he did yesterday?

I don't think he knows

and I don't think it shows

but for all of life's highs

I'm regretting its lows.