The monster in my heart.
Takes many different forms but no one knows what it really looks like.
The ultimate shape shifter.

Love!
Formal Definition, an intense feeling or passion.
But what is love’s truest form?
Does love sound like your favorite song?
Does love smell like fresh laundry?
Does it taste like macaroni and cheese?
Does love look like the text you get from your mom saying where are you?
Does love look like myself?
And the answer is love does look like me but when I look in the mirror love looks more like my daughter. The lungs in her chest breathe love, when I look into her amber eyes I see love in it’s purest form. I tell my daughter you were born loved, I tell her no man can love you harder than I can  no matter how many “you are the one's”, “you are the only girl I’m talking to’s” , “you are the only girl for me’s” you hear because love is not just a fight, it is a fight for you, and love will always win. And yes if you did not hear me, I said daughter and although she has not taken the oxygen that our mother earth provides she is not fake nor fictional because I met her. I met her in a dream. I thought she was my mother, for love drew me to her and love draws these images of what love means to us and I tell my daughter you are so loved. You see my daughter loves with her all, she loves through her half smiles, she loves through her several like and ums, she loves through the constant hate that pollutes society. She asks me if she can come to earth with me. I say baby girl, the world hates you. They hate the melanin that coats your temple, the world hates your nappy roots that cling to your scalp, the world hates that you are a woman, the world hates you for just being born, the world hates your father, the world hates your father, the world hates your father. She says daddy how are you so hated when you are so loved by me? You see my daughter L O V E’s me like how an I on a T-shirt loves New York. My daughter’s love is like a steak knife that pierces through whip cream, her love engulfs me like how quicksand takes its first victim. Her love takes me in like how our pillow takes in our heads after long hours of strenuous homework. My daughter asks how do we stop the hatred in these people. I say kill them. Kill them with your love in about 10 years.