Dear Love,

You are...
A lemon-colored button, rising to sit in sherbet-tinted sky.
A searching hand captured by another's.
An all-knowing spirit, one who can dissect our boldest denials and see how we really do want them.
A pair of rain-stained lips dancing on another's, while shaking hands comb through heavy hair.
The desire to take a moment, wrap it up, and save it for rainy days.
A timid smile climbing onto one's face.
A naive dream, bursting at the seams with sweet kisses and forever blue skies.
The indigo clickity-clack of heels gracing across a dance floor, in sync with the protective thump of another's.
The shade of gentleness that coats every snow white feather of a dove.
A quick kiss upon rosy cheeks.
Three words escaping one's cautious teeth in desperate moments.
The golden, blue-tipped flame that ignites the embers of hope and possibility in our souls.
Wonderfully spontaneous, subjected to occur in a single, throbbing moment.
The unquenchable thirst we have to drink in every single syllable our significant other says, whether kind or not.

But, my dear love,
You are also...
A heartbroken and loss scream, crushed by the tearless, broken sobs that overpower us, racking our bodies. We double-over as if we'd been struck, for we were never meant to endure such torture.
A cold, numb reality that douses our souls with icy waters, chilling us to the bone.
The sharp scissors that cut the thin tightrope we had been balancing so steadily on for so long, sending us flailing down into the endless abyss below.
Not the same soft, rounded-edged gaze. No, now it's frosty and harsh and the rage it soaks in dims even the stars above.
The small, mustard seed-sized doubt that lurks in the crevices of our nightmares, the faint whisper in the wind telling us it was all our fault.
The reason for our tear-stained pillow cases and hoarse morning voices.
The cluster of thorns tainting the roses stem.
So, I ask to all who may glance across this one day,
will you wallow in the unfortunate fact that all roses have their thorns,
or rejoice that all thorns have their roses?


A/N: I have never been in love, so this was pretty much a shot in the dark. And I am just recently getting into poetry, so sorry if it's bad. Still, please R&R! You know you want to…