It is possible I think
To love some one too much.
So that each time you kiss
The burning fever from their lips,
Or rub the smoothness of
Their furrowed brow,
A small piece of your soul
Is transferred to theirs.
And if they do not in turn
Grant a gift of their own body,
Then perhaps that love is
Not truly love at all
But mere infatuation.
For love is not one sided
Never selfish, never blind.
And love should never leave
You with a soul too empty
To love yourself.