Convenience

Pardon me.
I seem to have accidentally
placed you in my purse
and made a staple of you
like my house keys
and the mint gum I obsessively chew for fear of stale breath.
Although I fear that I've
ascribed far more value to you
than my pack of travel tissue.
(As convenient as that is.)
I guess I'm in love.
I guess my hesitation shows that I'm
waiting for some angel from above
to stick a complimentary packet of
wisdom in my mail box;
a free sample from the Divine.
Maybe the enclosed letter would say:
"Dear Madame,
I'm sorry to say that you consumed
a dose of  fleeting whimsy.
I'd advise you to be careful for
such paper-thin illusions are so flimsy.
Like a child
bedazzled by cheap glitter she heaps upon 
the page,
you've been revelling in frivolous novelty;
a victim to the limits of your young age."
Perhaps I need to
pardon you.
You seem to have accidentally
borrowed my tender feelings 
from life's library.
Since you haven't even skimmed the resources
I doubt there's anything you've learned.
For that reason, I don't think they'll ever be returned.
So I excuse you 
for all the times you so rudely
made me laugh.
I'll overlook the moments when
you made my head feel light and my heart pound.
Let's put the kind words and friendly teasing behind us.
I'll forgive you 
for reflecting me and being an extension of my ego
which is what love is essentially
as far as I can tell in my attempt to be
a semi-cynical variety
of worldly.
Yet maybe the letter would say:
"Dear Madame,
the foundation has been strongly laid.
You have my guarantee that it was well worth
the emotional investment you had paid."
..................................................................

Perhaps someday I'll allow myself to drift.
Perhaps someday I'll stop analysing
my every emotion, observation and mental shift
in world view.
Maybe sometime I'll accept the uncertainty of my youth.
Maybe eventually I'll stop this fruitless search for
objective truth.
Maybe love is just a deceptive reality;
for if I strongly believe it to be true,
how can it be impossible
that I'm in love with you?

Note: I labelled this as "Humour" not because I think it's laugh-out-loud funny but merely to indicate that it's not all meant to be taken seriously. The speaker is poking fun at herself and aspects of being in love until the last stanza. Not sure if that comes through or not.