That L word

Somehow or rather, I've made Nin believed that intimacy and affections of any kind is wasted on me. And that I would utter the L word (Yes its Love) only when there's 2 guns pointing to my head. Sheesh.

At this point may I remind her: "Hell woman! I need a canon aimed at my heart on top of the two guns at my head before I'd utter those words."

See my point is, that 4 letter word (L-O-V-E not Fuck. But still its all the same), in all of its glorious existence, it bites. Hard.

It then lifts you sky high and awaits the moment where your machismo hits rock bottom, before it drops you.

Before you think this as a contradiction of some sort, I am still for Love despite its constant mockery.

The only difference is that I don't usually call it by its name.