Love

Confessions tumbled off our lips
before we could even grasp
the idea of love.
Was it supposed to feel
like a spring morning,
in which you see everything
in a softer light?
Is it supposed to sound
like a lullaby,
sang by the moon and the stars, soothing the ears,
and sweetening the mind?
Is it supposed to look
like a dream
my mind can't comprehend, 
but wouldn't want
to live without?
Is it supposed
to taste sweeter than honey,
more tongue prickling
and addictive
than the sweetest sugar?