with or without you

The honey light of autumn makes me muse about my idea of love. My love cannot be lukewarm, it has to endlessly burn with dancing flames . My love cannot use all its fuel , for each day I find new reasons for loving him.

I still wonder why iy cannot be the same for him or for any other man I know.Why the predators, once satisfied with catching thier prey, cease finding any joy in the catch. Is it no longer desirable, no longer worth loving? Is it really necessary for a new hunter to want it so as to make him afraid of losing it ? Is jealousy really necessary to see again the value of his prey?

In vain did I get older, I haven't learnt to love less, to want less from the significant one. I once was someone's first love, will I succeed in being someone else's last?