My love for you sounds like bombs raining down on my brain, 

it causes the symptoms of my disorder,

but the symptoms I know and love 

reflect the way you make me feel. 

They rush in and batter me senseless 

they are abusive and they are harsh,

they are symptomatic love.

 

The love I feel for you is a rush,

it's adrenaline in it's purest form,

and I wait impatiently for the next symptom to arise.

 

I equate you with my disorder

because it's the only thing I know for sure.

You are the best trip I've ever had.

 

People talk about their trips fondly, 

whether bad or good,

they tell what they saw.

I tell of what I feel.

 

I feel warmth, like the sun

is hugging me, embracing me.

You are fire, you scorch and leave nothing in your path.

You protect me. 

 

You are the colors I wish I could see in people,

you are the voices that my mind wants me to hear,

you are the panic that my heart wants me to feel,

you are the instability that makes me feel like myself.

You are symptomatic love, my darling.