Love is
the smell of raspberry pie that
you always hated and
bought anyway because
I loved it.
Love is
the bitter dredges of coffee
you would go without because
the coffee was almost out and
payday was in two weeks and I
can't function without coffee, and
neither can you but you did anyway.
Love is
the sweet taste of strawberry candy
that I loved and
you loved and
we would argue over the
empty wrappers because
we were in love and
fighting was fun.
Love is
the empty echo of a
house that you left because you
needed a break but
the breaks were always short
because it
was love.
YOU ARE READING
Painful Truths
PoesíaLife asked Death, "Why do people love me but hate you?" and Death replied, "Because you are a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth." (completed) Well. Poems, if you could call them that. Just rambled and rushed night time thoughts. Some of these a...
