A fictional interpretation of a song by The Four Tops
Love is a drug when it comes to her.
I’m weaker than a man should be because I just want her. Only her. She’s the only one my eyes can see.
I can’t help myself.
I’m in love with her and I don’t want anyone else.
***
She has the curves and confidence of a woman who knows she can have whatever she wants.
One snap of her fingers and she knows I’ll be there, right there, to give her whatever she asks. She often takes advantage of this, but I don’t care. Why should I?
Love doesn’t need a reason for action.
“You have it bad.” She says.
“Sugar pie, yes I do.” I say.
***
She makes me happy, and that’s what counts.
I have to remind her every time we fight, and we often do honey bunch, you know that I love you. And she’ll fight so hard to keep that smile from her face, to keep her anger boiling, but she fails every time. Because she loves me too.
She drives me crazy, but if love was sane, it wouldn’t feel like love, would it?
Love is a drug when it comes to her.
And I just can’t help myself.
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