“Love is a feeling!” they said to me then,
their eyes all a-twinkle, their mouths a big grin.
“You’ll feel flapping in your stomach, like the wings of a dove,
and that’s how you know that it is true love.”
“Love isn’t real,” they said to me after,
tears on their cheeks, and lives void of laughter.
“I guess it’s not something you feel in your gut;
they tell you they love you, then choose to give up.”
“Love is a choice,” I’m telling you now.
It’s not about the what, but instead the how.
It’s ok to choose that it’s just not right,
but remember: you must also choose to
stay
and
fight.
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
“Love is a feeling!” they said to me then,
their eyes all a-twinkle, their mouths a big grin.
“You’ll feel flapping in your stomach, like the wings of a dove,
and that’s how you know that it is true love.”
“Love isn’t real,” they said to me after,
tears on their cheeks, and lives void of laughter.
“I guess it’s not something you feel in your gut;
they tell you they love you, then choose to give up.”
“Love is a choice,” I’m telling you now.
It’s not about the what, but instead the how.
It’s ok to choose that it’s just not right,
but remember: you must also choose to
stay
and
fight.
What is love, really? Does anyone know?