Love is not always that gentle sunshine or the pleasant perfume of a well nourished flower garden. Sometimes love is a heavy weight in the heart, then it's a cold hand at your throat. Love is the throbbing muscles of a bowman's arms some days, sentenced to pull at an equipment bereft of a projectile. Everyone knows this, right? 'Okay, you are not going to fall into this girl's charms', was what I told myself when when we met. 'You mustn't because she's a blaze, a boisterous, persistent fire and you, you don't need all that'. No way you could know this but things changed the day we made that play on stage, you the nurse and I the lecherous old doctor. That day I bought into a fantasy. I will be the one to loose your braids, massage your feet when you are sore and support your dreams. All your whims will I diligently indulge. To me, you will never be silly, I will carry you like egg. I am your cocoon. When it comes to it, my anger will
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