Love
'v' Love
The
glance, askance, romance ?
A
pulsating, fixating, gyrating.
Soft
mushy, fuzzy, wuzzy.
We
call this thing love.
Being
'in love' is a wonderful affair,
And
perchance, is so ruefully rare.
But
is this true love ?
A
firework display of testosterones,
And
palpitating hollow thought-ed breaths.
I
see real love deepen,
To
a point of near contentment,
Needing
none of this flamboyance.
The
laugh, the smile, the dance.
A
shoulder to rest tearfully on,
The
hand to hold in a storm.
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