Love.

I don’t know what it is
What it looks like
What it feels like
Who it belongs to
Or where it goes
What I do know
Is that everyone wants it
And it doesn’t exist
Because I can’t feel it
Taste it
Smell it
Or keep it
It isn’t a riddle
Or a question
An answer
Or rhyme
It isn’t or wasn’t
It never has been
Mine.