A Little Poem: What Love Is

Since Senior year, I have found myself falling in love more and more with the simple things in life. In fact, since the last blog post, I’ve gained skills such as cooking (I make a killer fish & chips and cajun chicken pasta so just let me know if you’re interested), playing pool, and even poetry. I have often loved the ability to sit down and read through just little excerpts and phrases that often pack immense wisdom and emotion behind each and every word. Like any other means of interpretive expression, poetry truly offers a different and unique perspective of the human heart. To this end, I want this blog post to be a reflection of my aspirations to write. With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, I’d thought I’d show a different side of love, the one that isn’t always talked about in the stories or the movies, showing what love is to me. I hope you enjoy 😊 .

Love Is

To me, love is like an orange leaf falling from its sturdy oak tree into the fragile nature of fall.

Love is like a crashing wave as it seeks the shore and finds its stay only to be cast out back into the loneliness of the sea

Love is like a sweet chocolate that melts into your mouth, the sweet caramel covering the individual taste buds until you are numb to all sensation but of ecstasy and solace; of passion and euphoria.

Love is like a novel, one written with haste and spontaneity, unsure of what to expect but so sure of its ending.

Love is like a shard of broken glass etched into your skin, unable to quench the wound and stop the pain from within as you slowly lose sensation of your feelings and doubt creeps in.

It is this that they don’t tell you about love, that wisping mania slowly becomes a wilting flower; like a wolf without its pack; like a lion with out its cub.

Love is like a double-edged sword where only the most valiant warriors can wield and see a brighter day. While the faint-hearted are left to die on the battle field of sorrow and decay

Yes that is what love is to me: a tender sweet melody as it lulls me to sleep until one day it cuts and slashes and all has been laid bare. Laid Bare like a broken bottle, a shattered frame, only for those pieces to be picked up again, mended, cured, until I can once more learn to love again.