What's Love got ta do with it?

There is a special place in the chest of a man, somewhere in proximity superior to the aorta, that registers feelings deeper than the mind can comprehend.
It is a dull, deep feeling that just sits there like a lump of stale pita bread that was not adequately washed down, a sense that something is there and it's not quite right.
The ancients and contemporaries attributed this to "the heart" and has manifested itself on Hallmark curios for many Februarys now, some red graphic more reminiscent of Ipomoea than cardiac.
I do not like this feeling; it is like a cousin to anxiety, like when you realize you are about to be called on the carpet. It is a hanging, open sensation that something is out of place; like Elvis, shalom has left the building. It is the feeling that occurs when a girl realizes that she will not be asked to the prom. It is a feeling a boy feels when he sees his best friend flirting with the girl he has a crush on.
Crush.
That's a good word.
Crush. This heavy sense that there is something there, pushing in or on.
It is also the feeling one has when he or she chooses to lay aside a dream before it can be further dreamt.
RIP--John 12:24