What is love?
What is love, but a simple word
Burdened with the weight of humanity
On its shoulders.
What is love, but the purest dove
Wrapped and choked with
The darkest sin.
Is love not a gem?
The silent whisperings of skin,
The secret meetings between the heart.
The budding of a child,
To mother’s bosom
From mother’s womb.
Or is love but pyrite stones to dazzle
a gold prospector, and dub him a fool?
To jealously brand a ring,
In the form of a vow
An oath to hide the envious heart?
Is love not a fiend?
