There is nothing more beautiful in this world than love.
But I do not believe in fantasy.
Though I wish it more than anything to be true,
I cannot honestly say that this is the answer.
Despite that, I have seen the most absurd events
in which love may have actually manifested.
I am not cruel, nor am I heartless -obviously.
However, if love were real...
It would be the fire in my eyes when I write a story.
It would be the storm that builds when my pseudo realities come to life.
Though I have my doubts on the existence of a non-biologically induced "love,"
I know what it is.
It is the trust and support in the eyes of my friends and family.
It is my hope for a future in which I not only belong, but have mastered.
Love is my everlasting and, yet, failing attribute.
I am a poet and I do not believe in love.
What I do believe in is -
A mother and child's pulse laying side by side,
A father's protective nature for his daughter, and
Sibling rivalry, though harsh, just as safe as family always should be.
Love is the ridiculousness of religion and a parents fear for their children.
Love is the tears from a daughter as she folds the American flag after an unfair disadvantage.
Love is holding hands with your sister because not doing so would be painful.
Love is the sweat that stains a father's brow, and yet he pushes onward because he must.
Love is bad singing.
Love is the shininess of a brand new piano.
It is family and friends and obsession.
Love is dreary and hopeless, and, as always, impenetrable.
Love is physical, mental, and emotional
But love is more that that.
I could go on and this poem would last forever.
But, forever never lasts and it if did, I might believe.