Love is it

Okay, here's a poem based on your prompt: Confused and a muse, Refuse to choose. Is it good, is it bad, I can't even be glad. A drastic change, My heart's disarranged. Full of grief and disbelief, Finding no relief. Love, is it good? Is it bad? Makes me believe, then makes me sad. A deceive, or something real? How am I supposed to feel? "Love," you say the word, But it feels so absurd. Is it high? Is it low? I just don't know. Love what is, you say, But what is "is" today? Is it pain, is it joy? This feeling destroys. Maybe loving what is, Means accepting this mess. The good and the bad, The happy and sad. Maybe it's not about choosing, But gently perusing, All that life may send, Until the very end.