Love is such a cliché word,
Used by the youth and old,
They said it's young and bold,
But all I felt and saw was cold.
I may not seen actual snowflakes fall,
Or melt in warm palms,
But I saw it in our room,
The day she sobbed and begged for a shoulder to cry on.
Your kisses froze me,
Your touch made me hard as ice,
And the only thing that melted me,
Was your stare, your eyes.
At the end, we bid goodbyes,
welcoming a new season,
Summer,
And it was still you, in sun dresses and sun smiles.
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PoetryA everyday poem for her but never been peruse by she
