Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Love is a tricky thing.
It can be received, but not given.
It can be lent, and never returned.
You are what you love, not who loves you.

It's a great relief to hear:
you are what you love, not who loves you
Someone else's emotions towards you
doesn't define you.
Its how you feel and
how you act
that really matters.

And yes, you may love
the wrong thing then,
but that's not now.
So that doesn't define
your future!
It's domain is the past.
You must let it rule there,
or else it will
invade your future.
You are what you love, not who loves you.

Love life.
Love happiness.
Love the smell of summer rain.
Love the feel of soft grass.
Love the chill of snow and
the heat of the sun.
Charish what you love.
Charish you.
*You are what you love, not who loves you.
To listen to you talk
To drive, to take a walk.
Just us girls beneath the sun.
Where we laugh and sing a ton.
No one else like you,
Who loves life and all that's new.
Who turns the song up loud
And belts it strong and proud.
You turn the windows down,
We cruise around the town.
Then to the countryside,
Where  streets are long and wide.
I could go with you til dawn
If the drive could just go on.
I love that fiery heart
That I'll miss when we're apart.
But sister, you should know,
To me, you shine, you glow.
So don't you ever change,
Or I'll love you just the same.
Quietly hanging above my head,
You protect me from myself.
The shadows, escapees from my darkest thoughts,
Get trapped in your web,
Unable to disturb my sleep
Your feathers shift with the sweetest dreams
Of  love and flight
Granting them passage into my slumber.
If only it really worked this way.
You never say a word
As I stroke your skin,
Tracing the veins along your arm -
Just watch my fingers
Traveling the road map of the blood
That courses through your body.
I have tried so many times
To find a different path
Discover a detour
But I have only found a common route -
Whatever vein I choose,
It leads to your open hand, outstretched
The only place I feel at home.
It is one of those nights
When I can only stare out the window
at the yellow crescent moon
As my thoughts rage.
But the moon is fuzzy because my
eyes aren't perfect
And finally the clouds obscure it
completely
So that I just give up
And make another attempt to sleep.

— The End —