No Roots

From one moment to the next,
I change my mind about you-
from clinging to you to pushing you far away.
I delight in your memory and toil in its goneness.
From one moment to the next, 
I wish to draw you near my heart;
then I change my mind and wish to be free of you.
I am constantly changing my position on you.
I am a changing thing with no roots.
Forms gather attachments;
love is just a word that clings.
I cling to change and changing myself is all I have to offer you.
What else is love if it does not expand?
I would be bored with myself and you if I remained unchanged.