Love vs Love

They call it love, this endless crave,

But feels more like the need to save.

A phantom touch, a fleeting hue,

A dream we chase but never true.

For family holds, and friends remain,

A steady balm to soothe the pain.

No restless nights, no endless fall,

Just quiet love that answers all.

But lovers—they intoxicate,

A fevered rush we call our fate.

Their laughter haunts, their absence stings,

We give them power to pull our strings.

What is this madness, this fragile high,

That lifts us up and lets us die?

A chemical storm, a cunning scheme,

A waking ache, a borrowed dream.

We do not ache for the friend who stays,

Or pine for the family who lights our days.

Their love is steady, a gentle stream,

Not the wild current of love’s extreme.

So is it love, or is it need?

A hunger we mistake for seed?

A fleeting joy, a ruthless snare,

A hollow promise wrapped in care.

I wonder now if love’s a lie,

A beautiful mask we all comply.

For why should love be cruel, unkind,

If not addiction of the mind?

~RMC