When I first met love,
Love was... She waaaasss,
Well She was rude.
Just by the way she looked at me,
The tone of voice she used
The feeling that she bared was crude
But I could never elude
Does the inconsistent affection define her?
The every now and thens
The almosts
The barelys
Hardlys
The healings then the scarring
The massages then sparring
The statements
Like ******* and darlings???
Her, and hate always seemed to be divided by a single line
Overall I got use to her, but
I don't know I jus got annoyed by the intimacy alloy
It was hard to mix because she didn't give a ****
...And I gave roses
And when I sent flowers
She sent some back
The same dozen ...
to be exact
The confusion
The illusion
The tears that kept oozing
And almost in the same emotion we gave a sense of devotion
Question!
If we close our hearts,
Could our minds stay open?
And if we lost interest,
Could our hearts stay focused?
Love was hell of an experience
Since I dealt with her I have confidence with anyone else
...
I think my past can bring a present to my future
...
I thought of deviating from her
But I know she don't come with only one person
There's others that carry her, similar to mothers
With innocence that will greet you to her,
Similar to ushers