Love In Disguise?

Abstruse, obscure, recondite, name it:
'T rankles in my mind and soul;
Now I feel a fool,
And, to contend with it, I have.

In the absence of the lass,
I feel nothing but gas,
Lighting up my inner man,
And soar high up, I do.

In the presence of the lass,
I feel nothing, totally nothing,
Only curt responses and nods,
'Stain' our communion.

In the absence of the lass,
Her picture: radiant, alive,
Floats before my mind's eye,
Sate, I smile warmly.

In the presence of the lass,
Pictures of this and whatever,
Float before my mind's eye,
Discreetly, politely, I look away.

In the absence of the lass,
I tell myself "I'll surely tell her,
That tremors she causes in me."
I'll surely say: "I love you."

In the presence of the lass,
Nothing is given away,
No emotion, no feeling,
Only a cold, unresponsive duo.

Surely, this is eating at me,
Eating, tearing at my every fibre,
Someone please do tell me,
Can this be termed 'Love in disguise?'