The idea representing this description remains undefined. Many claim to have experienced such a thing, but they lie. Here's the truth:
It grips the threads of the heart and thrusts it within the ribs, corroding its way through the chest.
Clenching the lungs with broad fists, where only a sigh can be released.
It becomes the poison in blue blood running in your veins;
Careful, they say, it can be jealous.
Letting intruders roam into a bottomless pit where only darkness shines and the fall is but the safest haven
because landing is the end.
It knows of no barriers,
It is blind, but see, it knows the texture of lies, the taste of illusions and the scent of weakness.
Trust it not, for it will leave its trace.
Beware of the beast; they call it 'Love'.
Alejandra Berber's Other Poems
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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