Imara .

 I've heard that love
is the four letter lie
That instead of being a precious dove
Love will make you want to die.

I do not know.
for I've never felt,
that 'emotion' which others tell
is horrible for fate to have dealt

So Tell me, lovers
Is it all that bad?
That wringing emotion that hovers
Over heavy hearts and makes some Mad?

Tell Me,
for I'd like to see.
Is it really as bad as some make it to be?
Or is it simply, utterly, imaginary?

Of Imagination
I have enough.
So then love should appear without hesitation
If only my own mind wasn't so gruff.

Not allowing even the illusion
Of someone who truly loves.
No, instead I'm bathed deep in confusion
abused my my mind that pushes and shoves.

So then is my mind.
The lover you say.
Will drive me mad make me want to rewind
and rue all time with them, every single day?

No, I suppose
There's warm first, right?
That it starts in your chest and moves through to your toes.
The kind that keeps you warm on the coldest night.

Lucky you are.
To have and to hold.
even for a night, dangling by a wishing star.
Love may not last, but it sure is bold.