Love is not
something you can
hold in your hands
and tarnish like brass.
It cannot be described by children
making wishes in pen-flicks
that one day their poems might come true.
It is not about all the displaced "lovers"
lamenting touches and stolen things
they so readily gave away-
hearts, lungs, lips, private places
they tried to fill with empty words
and longing.
Love is not a disease,
nor a biological metaphor for chaos,
nor the sum of all your words or mine.
It is something more.













Comments
--
"I don't feel that I need to explain my art to you, Warren."
-A.J. Empire Records
Wow.
I mean, what can I say when you just said it all.
-- peace !
--
the above is a haiku
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