We throw this simple word around, this emotion, this phrase that keeps us
In a daze, never truly understanding why
Standing under a veil of semi-trust, but when the
Dust clears and we’re still here,
What is love,
Is it a constant clockwise circle of endearment,
Sweet words and nothings that warm a heart,
Brushing away the dull misfortune and demise
And the lulls of each day?
A blessing in disguise, these hardships
That trip us into the arms of someone who’ll keep us
Safe from harm, turning our worlds up-side down
And inside out
Without a doubt,
They capture a heart.
And is there silence?
Yes. And violence,
Though not as much,
And not the kind we know so well,
Recognizing the hell of this world,
Taking us to somewhere else.
See, we know what this is;
What it means
Is something that needs no definition,
No encyclopedia of hearts could help us now.