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Darren Mar 2016
Give me wild love,
The kind which cannot
Be silent or caged with iron.

Which dwells in the shadows,
In back alleyways,
In barely beating hearts.

Love born in the winter,
Or on the morning bus,
Or on vibrating phones.

Love that grows like sunflowers
Reaching toward heaven
Spreading in the wind.

Maturing with children,
And fleeting seasons
Though never fading.

Undying and unyielding,
Consuming like a wildfire
Leaving only ash behind.
Darren Mar 2016
I fell in Love with words
and thought that maybe
you could too, but in the end
words were never enough
and neither was I.

— The End —