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Love.

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If I were to ask myself
Had I ever been in love?
Would I say yes, would I say no
Or simply shrug it away
Saying "I do not know?"

Maybe once, I'd have thought
I'd looked upon love's face
But it turned a sickly shade of green
And crumbled away to not
As I asked myself "What could it mean?"

And now I'd dare say I've found the answer
A subtle slap to my face
For beauty was laid out infront of me
But I sought far and beyond
And I thought "Could this possibly be?"

But she was unsure, even scared to question the thought
Though now as I dream, I'd hope she would ponder
What is love, if not a decision to give
Everything you have in the art of losing one's self
As we fight for our reason, our motivation to live?

Love is the movement





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