I don't know how to write of love,
It's unfamiliar territory,
Like a hand in an oversized glove,
Or a moral with no story.
If I could write about the way
I put all faith in you,
And how you returned that faith to me,
That alone wouldn't do.
I could write about attractiveness-
Of skin as smooth as milk,
Of eyes that heal my sadness,
And a touch as light as silk.
That still doesn't quite do it though,
It doesn't seem enough,
To quote the cannibilistic king-
"This subject is quite tough!"
I could write about the words we share,
When we're together and alone,
Or of holding hands in public,
Or crying on the phone,
Or how we long to hold each other,
Or hear the other's voice,
How just being with each other
Feels like the only choice.
Yes, I could talk all day about the way
Your feelings make me feel
But as fishing-rod designers say;
"It's time to make this reel."
Because real love's not as romantic
As the the love seen on T.V,
Or how it looks in certain books,
And classical poetry.
There's arguements at midnight,
There's anger and despair,
And times when you may feel like
The other doesn't care.
There are times you feel you're talking
And the other doesn't hear,
There's feeling you're not good enough,
Caused by jealousy and fear.
It's giving the other power
To destroy your hopes and dreams,
To tear your heart completely
And sometimes that's how it seems.
No- I don't know how to write of love,
Because the realism shows through,
To quote the cannibal king once more-
"This subject's hard to chew."
So I will not bore you anymore
On things I can't convey
And feelings which I am not sure
You're feeling anyway,
But I'll leave you with some sound advice-
Being in love can be the best,
Or else it turns your heart to ice
(To which many can attest.)
I won't recommend you plunge right in,
Or back off altogether,
But it will not stay as it begins-
Love changes like the weather.