Love is like a mosquito. Sneaking up when you are least expecting, buzzing faintly in your ear. Sometimes ignored, sometimes slapped quickly, nipped at the bud.
Droplets of red stain your fingers, where you slapped love away, killed it fast. The redness is sticky,
Like strawberry jam, but less innocent. Sometimes you don't notice until
It is too late, the mosquito lands on its target and takes hold. Sucks you dry while you are oblivious.
Then love floats away in a daze. Lazy and full of food. Tipsy and drunken.
You feel the emptiness, then the itch.
It starts small, but hard to ignore. It marks the spot
Where love once was.
Well done! I love the mosquito comparision; it works well. 'Like strawberry jam, but less innocent,' is probably my favorite line :)
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