Love is the thorn of the rose,

It can hurt you without sanction.

Love is gain and love is loss,

A hundred fathoms miles far from perfection.

Love is the endless lake of tears,

It’s the cruelty of the uncertain heart.

Love is full of risks and fears,

Ever so frightened of a fresh start.

Love is what you need to feel,

Wake the capacious heart from its rest

Love is what you shouldn't steal.

It is an endemic field of its best

Love is ashes of the past.

A memorial of your inconsistency

Love is first and love is last.

Dare not chide your own resistance