Romantics call it Love Cynics call it Lust To me is but commotions Of opened flood-gates to the heart Stirring myriads of emotions At first glance jubilant inceptions from the start As now compelled to deem myself as your admirer To scrutinize your thoughts, your needs To such heart-felt feelings of desire To know your likes, dislikes, your peeves Oh! See what inspirations you are able to instill My want to understand what makes you Love or totally despise As how your image cast a spell upon my will My need to know for certain if you are real or an angel in disguise