Is it truly possible,
To only care for the object of love,
Somehow unable to care for yourself,
Lost in the skies above,
Can every waking moment,
Be a constant swirl of thought,
With the thoughts of a single person,
The place where your heart is caught.
For some the answer might be no,
Yet for others the answer’s yes,
With sincerity somehow being unseen,
While spoken words become the test,
Actions give the false impression,
That caring does not exist,
Trapped inside the things we found,
And what the heart can not resist.
You’re told to act a certain way,
And to believe in certain things,
But what if you believe in love,
And those things that living brings,
Can love be a dark cloud looming,
Is it possible it holds only pain,
Is it just smiles and laughter,
That thought lost we try to regain.
At times we taste a paradise,
But at times we pay a price,
Immersed in total darkness,
With the heart a block of ice,
Our all goes into the emotion,
We hold it at any cost,
While onlookers seem to stop and stare,
And think the man is lost.
People form their opinions,
Based on what they see,
Doesn’t mean their conclusions right,
Just take a look at me,
Is love the thing that molds you,
Does it live and breathe inside,
Do you pretend it doesn’t bother you,
Being content that love to hide.
Love is as substantial as a mountain,
But as fleeting as ice that melts,
And if you continually torture yourself,
Does that self abuse leave welts,
When love is what you cling to,
It’s not love the world may see,
But within the act of holding on,
Inside that love roams free.