Epitaph

love is a forest fire, the burning bush, smoke rising from the embers of a moment lost to eternity... love is a healing touch, the nourishing hand, the echo of the self whispering from its deepest recesses... and answering! love is murder... destroying everything in its path. love is a knife, cutting the soul from its prison of identity... love is a trash truck... picking up the pieces of lifetimes thrown to the curb... love is a broken window in a house where nobody lives... love is the bitter taste i keep spitting, walking down this old road again... yet love is the epitaph, written in blood and sweat, that my living leaves behind.