The last time I wrote a poem;
It was my first chance at love.
A boy who gently stole my heart,
With his profound words
And charming personality.

I will not cut too deep,
As that was a heart-rending wound,
Which eventually healed
As time patiently floated by.

Here I am now,
With my second chance at love.
He’s sweet, he’s kind;
He’s the right amount of honey
Added to balance the bitter taste of tea.

All I’m saying is that
There are different kinds of love
A person will journey through;
It might hurt, it might bleed,
It might even make you cry.

However, at the end of the day,
Love is supposed to make you feel warm;
Like the feeling of drinking hot chocolate
On a cold, rainy day;
Or wearing your favorite sweater
As the weather outside is perfectly cool
With a tad bit of warmth.