I don't remember when I wrote this, but it must have been some time ago

When is Love

When do you love me?

How do you love me?

With what do you love me?

Where do you love me?

Why do you love me?

I feel alone,

Like a stork standing on a pier pole,

One leg in the air, the other on the pole.

The storm hits, and there I stand,

Alone,

As the waves roar and lap against the pole.

What is Inside?

What is inside?

Is it just blood, and guts and goo?

Am I but gristle and sinew?

What's inside?

What is inside?

Is there besides tissues and bone?

Is there more than emptiness and stone?

What's inside?

What's inside my head?

Cranium, and folds of brain,

Rocklike skull, blood in veins?

What's inside my head?

At times I feel like I'm hollow,

Like there should be no tomorrow.

At times I feel empty,

Like there should be more to me.

Am I different than others?

Or are we sisters and brothers?

They too feel pain and loss?

That life is a double cross?

Damn I'm glad those times don't last long