What is love,
it is everything...

The good and the bad,
sharing, learning, comforting,
no sides, no boundaries,
understanding,
even if you don't,
arms open...wide,
mind open...wider,
heart always accepting that
not everything is easy,
the bed of roses comes with thorns,
but you endure,
scars will show,
yet are considered beautiful,
skinned knees, bike rides,
mis-spoken words, well meaning
badly timed, hurt feelings,
chocolate covered sundaes,
picnics in the park, yardwork,
lost keys, little lies, surprise parties,
(when you specifically said no,)
breakfast in bed, arguments,
making love, making the bed afterward,
bad movies, dead cell phone batteries,
***** dishes, headaches,
eye rolls, laughter, hugs,
poetry,
being far, being close,
sweet kisses, feeling wanted,
nothing is ever too much,
tough decisions, agreed upon outcomes,
looked forward to moments,
tears, smiles, big smiles, bigger smiles,
holding hands, support,
truth, long days,
passionate nights,
taking chances,
dreaming,
rainy mornings,
bad moods, good moods,
really good moods,
candlelit dinners,
promised forevers,
(meant)
hot coffee, chilled wine,
warm affection and
brain freezes...

What is love...it is everything,
if it is you and me

No saintly tears for this belted
asteroid 208 .
A rock headed into
insignificance , as it twirls
around some son/sun of long
forgotten already tomorrows .
Life's long road ,
crushed rock , hopes , and dreams ,
are tarred into
submission ;
driven madly over in derision .
Yet you dare crave more
than time , and space , and memories .
When we know that tears from heaven
saintly flow forever .
And will wash all traces away .
Like the riders of the storm
that deluge the three rivers charged
with pain , forgotten love , and time's
indifference .
Hush now , the last flickers of light dim ,
thy song was beauteous , but there are never encores granted
by the Angel that never cries .

With the box lid closed
It's dark inside,
There are no colours
We can't abide.
But a golden sliver of light seeps in,
To expose the colours there within.
We see red when enraged,
And scarlet dancers crowd our stage;
A red-blooded male brags virility
Through rose-coloured glasses of masculinity.
Some grow green with envy,
Reveal they're yellow in enmity,
Are blue when feeling empathy,
Turn blue holding out for sympathy,
Are tickled pink with comedy,
And white as a sheet with tragedy,
Or brown-nosed with syncophany.
If your yellow-bellied you may run,
And green-gilled after Jamaican ***,
Write purple prose when versifying,
Ashen coloured when you're dying.
True colours show outside the box,
Use grey cells to colour unorthodox.
Our true colours are harlequin,
That fade to black at our end.

And sometimes you have to lose yourself to find the better version of you.
Like Hide and Seek, it'll take time but the game has to end some time.