Dream of love
Warm hand eyes filled with love,
whispers of passion,
that make u fill like a beauty.
Are all part of this dream called love.
But if u ask someone to define it.
They cant, why we wander.
Thinking they don't really love us,
if they cant tell us why.
Then we think it was all a lie,
why not isn't it love.
We weep and cry, harming our self's.
But what if the tables turned,
could we define it.
We thank long and hard,
we cant.
Regret comes to us,
along with waves of emotion.
Why had u left them,
without trying to yourself.
Therefore if they did define it,
then do they love me.
Wanders wash over.
A world mystery.















Comments
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I'm too weird to live, but much too rare to die.
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