Love
I believe that love have its definitions.
That word varied from who uses it—
How wise they are to define.
Love may be all that gentle.
Like the breeze of a calm night,
Her scent for your smell,
When he touches your hand.
Or love could be all that despair.
Like the kingdom losing all the battles,
Sacrificing a life to revive someone,
Or killing your beloved.
Love is below the surface.
It meant significant,
Everytime you leave those three letters—
“I Love You.”
I ponder, if it meant deeper?
How easy it is for you to tell.
Does it make you think of her,
As someone you truly cherish?
Because love is profound.
You could love to kill,
You would die out of love.
Love is about crossing lines.
Love is sweet.
It caresses our core,
It sings us lullaby,
Love is hugs and kisses.
Albeit, love is dangerous.
It kills somebody,
It ruins the music notes,
It destroys reality.
