there is a softness to this love. a giggle as we run, a laugh when you gently kiss. a game.
some call you a manipulator, but it is a game of love. a game where we love and laugh. maybe is a game, but it is a marvelous one.
when the game ends, i shall not be sad. we have chased and collapsed from laughter rolling on the floor as the gentle beams of light warm your face.
g
e
n
t
l
e
in a way i did not know a human could be,
such a simplicity to this love.
perhaps this is how it is meant to feel, happy, not a match made by anyone but us. there was no cupid, no emma, no eros. it is us and only us, such a real feeling such a real love.
it is like we are little kids
playing in the garden
i missed such a feeling.
YOU ARE READING
AGAPE, Poetry
Poetry" 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕 form of love . . . in which...i tell stories of love for i can not experience the love myself. or , in which i write poetry and prose.
