What is love? 

Is it that splintering feeling of pain when you reach over from the driver's seat to touch her shoulder and "Apologize" for yelling? 

Is it that fear to go to sleep because I know what the alcohol does? 

Is it the dread that invades my heart, one beat at a time, until I finally hear the RING, 

R-I-N-G, 

Of the telephone. 

And I know that I have no choice but to LOVE, 

L-O-V-E,

You back.

What is love? 

Is it the constant question of, 

Who?

What? 

When?

Where?

Why?

Is it the bickering I hear from the backseat?

Tell me daddy! 

What is love?

Because if it is all these things, 

Then I think maybe you love a little too much.

Now,

When I see love, 

I see the spelling, 

R-I-N-G,

And I cringe at the fact that other people who come into my life will R-I-N-G me too.

But don't fear daddy, 

Because I learned how to build my walls from the best. 

And I'll be damned if I let someone else, 

R-I-N-G, 

Me.

What is love? 

Is it that fear of a two second gaze that feels like an hour? 

Is it that empty feeling in your heart when everyone gives up climbing your walls because you built them too high? 

And if this is love, 

Then why does the sound wake me up from a happy dream and force me to see things less beautiful?

Because, 

This so called love is spelled R-I-N-G, 

But I failed my spelling test, 

and the teacher told me it was because love is spelled,

L-O-V-E.