With every word,
Deep inside, my heart,
Is slowly initating to disperse,
My vision of any other is blurred
With every though my feelings
Start to to further immerse
The feelings called love
I can be incoherent
But yet calamitous or commendable
It can be sweet as a pure white dove
Or a painful as a scorching affliction
Though I have not seen the sweetness
The sweetness that is said to be included in love
Only the bitterness