Poem: Heart Function

Love is not what you think it is. 
It's not mysterious and deep. 

It's an algorithm, that's all.
A script run anew with each person we meet.

A recursive heart function
Repeating until we are dead.

Love is not artsy-fartsy, hippie-dippie super-feels.
It's a set of instructions, that's all. 

With infinite configurations
And variables.

The bits and bytes of our bodies
Are programmed to love each other.

Melting at the sound of his voice,
Your heart racing at the sight of her,

The ecstacy,
 
The forgiveness,

The mourning, 

Is all 1001001001001.

Run.

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