How far
Is "too far"
When it comes to someone you
Love?
Perhaps "love" is too silly a word
Some seldom speak of love
Others, in abundance.
Nonetheless,
How could a person think that,
Out of seven
Billion
People in the world,
Your soulmate
Is your teenaged lover?

Sure, love always finds a way
And luck has been with those
Who are fortunate enough
To see their loved ones
Every
Day.
But for those that have to suffer through
Years of continuous "danger"
I am truly saddened,
Yet moved,
By the way your charm
Has hypnotized a stranger
Who knows?
Maybe if I was,
Well,
More social perhaps,
I could develop a charm
Of my own.
However,
I am as plain as plain could possibly be
And don't think anyone would ever want
Me.

That may seem sad,
Though it really is not,
Love is something I have thought of
A lot.
It is a flower
That decides when it blooms
Some love the day, but
The ones at night release different fumes.

Night flower
Is a sinner of a kind
Always stalking;
Scouting for prey.
You can run from it,
Run as fast as you can
Before you give in to the feeling;
Before you fail to realize
The love of a night flower
Is not love at all,
But a glorified sense of
Lust.

The day flower is the sun,
The waves,
And the wind on a summer day.
Love of this kind
Is mainly here to stay.
Admire the beauty
Of this delicate creation;
Pure,
Innocent
Persuasion

But when the day
Meets the night,
They melt into one
Beautiful
And dangerous
Being.
Dark curly locks,
With a pure porcelain face
And a charming voice
That could make time stand
Completely still.