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A Red Rose that smells of the infatuation and curiosity.  
It's innocent purpose to lure and beguile the eyes That fall onto its silhouette.  

It's gorgeous.  
The way the crimson petals dance in the wind.

Is that fair?
A token of curiosity for the passage to a broken , lifeless heart?
A stone now more than flesh?

Not so long ago, another was presented.  
But it grew thorns on my side.
What is one more ?

And so now this remains admired from afar
Its beauty quickly fading.

Is it fair that it be judged as a poison?
And not as a white flag waived from that distance?
An apology not from the abuser.  
But a gesture intended to make up for that lost dream?

It is tempting i must admit.
To indulge in that sweet fragrance that lingers  .
But a poison never tastes bitter.
What to do?
What to say?
What to do?
It's hard trusting myself more these days.  I know I'm not perfect. But that fear...
Love is a ****** up thing
Love is that feeling you get
When you know you’re with
The person that’s meant to be

Love is a beautiful thing
Love is full of ups and downs
Twists and turns yet,
Love is so much more than what you’d expect
Ikurah Aug 4
she said "me and moon are twins
we look so beautiful from distance
but we have our own scars",
the rainboy cried everynight to
hide the moon behind the clouds
it rains whenever moon boy teardown !
it's an open ending & fill the rest !
Ananya Jul 11
The absolutely radical,
Mind boggling idea of being accepted.
-A fantasy served with insecurity
On the side, stained
With the lipstick you only wear
On third dates, the idea of
what love "should feel like"
Bubbling below the skin
Until you get blisters and boils,
sick and heady but starry eyed.
Ignoring the naysayers,
Oh so what if sleeping beauty
Gets roofied here.
The potential to get shattered,
Identity mutilated beyond recognition
Is, after all, a small price to pay
If you finally get to.. Belong.
Lotus May May 29
to know love,
we forsake our sanity,
the control over
our own minds
we take the risk of
losing more than just
parts of our hearts
to know love,
we break ourselves
over and over
only to chase after it
blindly again
despite knowing that
no one will ever
come close to truly
knowing love
Tin May 29
All this time,
Been looking,
What is it to me?
I don't want yet for it to come,
Was never ready
For true love comes unexpectedly
All unexpected things,
May come slow or as fast as you don't think
Will be that time,
Right timing?
Or that timing,
Wrong timing?
I'm scared,
That I might lose something in the future,
Both important

When true love comes,
What would I chose?
If true love waits,
Will it be still a right time then?
For sure, waiting kills time
What's left may left as that
Will I be ready for that?
How will I know after choosing,
If it's all or nothing?
Love or lies?
Heart or mind?
I guess, to choose is to cost is to lost
One over another,
When the boat sinks,
Will it be better to save myself from drowning?
Or let myself be drowned with him, together?
Which life is worthy?
A life of a brave soul eaten by loneliness,
Or a life where loneliness were eaten by brave souls?
I don't remember when was the first time I started wondering what true love is for me. I've came up with this unsolid opinion and unsure feeling. Don't get me wrong, I'm not yet there. That's why I can't tell, even this piece won't tell. But somehow, I feel like this is a guide for me.
Geary evans May 4
How long must I perstist
How long must I wait
How long until I have to wait
Those lips those eyes those hands
Are you sent from heaven or just a fallen angel
Years I wait for you and yet I am still not worthy to be your
I. Wait for you
Pamela Apr 28
What happens to love unrequited?
Does it go back to the lover?
Or does it find another target?
Does it dissolve in the pool of tears shed?
Or does it stay in the heart and weigh it down?

What happens to love untold?
Does it stay in the silence of its own being?
Or in the many little gestures?
Does it find peace in the saddest of melodies..

What happens to love denied?
What happens to love destroyed?
Does it stay in the injustice of it?

Is love all-knowing?
Or is it an ignorant fool?
Is it a product of vulnerability, or maybe the cause itself?
Is it the stairwell to heaven or hell?
Is love overdosed, like *******?
Does it overshadow real pain?
Does love even exist?
Or is it a phantom of your dreams?
Is falling in love the vertigo 'dizzy' ?
Or the comfort 'fuzzy'?
Is the promise of love an eternal lie?
Maybe love is just that - a million unanswered questions, a thousand gazes unmet....
This poem is a result of my musings and curiosity about what love is, when it is one-sided. This poem is a conclusion.
Two children
The little boy stands bashfully
The little girl hands him
Freshly picked flowers
A kiss from the boy to the girl’s cheek

Two teenagers
The girl chews gum and twirls her hair
The boy arrives with his car
She smiles and gets in
A kiss and then they’re off.

Two people
The woman is full of bruises
The man has scratches
But fewer than the bruises
She cries and tries to leave
He throws her to the ground
A kiss good night before he locks the door.

Two lovers
The lady shines from an inner glow
The gentleman smiles proudly of a secret
He takes her hand
He bends down on one knee
She squeals with delight
A long, loving kiss to confirm the answer.

Two people
An older woman straights the hair
A younger woman sits nervously
It is a new beginning
The music starts far away
A kiss to say goodbye “Ms.”

One person
A sad woman
Where has her heart gone?
A surprise
He is right behind her.
A tear of joy
A kiss to seal the reunion

Two people
An elderly woman
An elderly man
They sit quietly on the porch swing
They think of days gone by
They hold hands
A kiss to say “I’m still here”

One person
A bouquet of roses
Tears falling down her cheek
A granite stone sits before her
“Beloved Husband to the end”
She smiles
A kiss on the rose before placing them down.
This is one of my UA poems. Written 1-31-2011. I thought about how the concept of love means something different to many people. Whether that is actually love or not is up for interpretation. However, I've heard someone call situations like this "love".
You have loved a writer
Or a writer falls in love with you
What's it like

What if, when I say
Love is not merely a word
Love is not silence
Love is not distance
Love is not a known stranger
Love is not static goodbye

Love is what
Holds on
Love is what
Brings out
The best in you
To be someone's

Love is what remains
Till the end
More like that
Genre: Observation
Theme: wonder
Author's Note: you have to witness what love is not, to understand what love is. Through dark you can see the light. The thing what remains till the end is love, it's something close to soul.
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