Love is a stroll in a sunlit garden, under a perfect blue sky
Love is the lurching axeman, blood dripping and stumbling through corridors hard and white
Love is the warm sun and a light summer rain
Love is the vise-grip of ice, the cold that rips the breath from your lungs and tears from your eyes
Love is the warm bed, as sunlight drifts through the gaps in the blinds
Love is the sword on which we commit the ritual of Seppuku: and give all.