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Love is Cruel

Poetry By: Graeme Montrose

Love Love Love Love Love Love

Submitted:Dec 4, 2009    Reads: 154    Comments: 8    Likes: 6   

Love is Cruel
Love is cruel, love is blind, love it breaks the heart
Lovers weep and lovers laugh, lovers feel the pain
Love is like a rose you see its perfume sweet and pure
Yet when you pick it up my friend, the thorns they bite you deep
Love will take your heart and squeeze; it brings the perfume forth
Love will null the sense too, an opiate it be
Love will lift you to the heights and then will let you go
Love will bind you fast and tight, love will set you free
Love will conquer, stake its claim, love will devastate
Love had many forms you see, love is wild and free
Like the wind it howls and blows or like the gentle breeze
Love can sneak on up on you, love can conquer time
Oceans, space or continents, none can keep out love
Love will find an entrance in, loves a magic force
Wave the wand an you will see, none escape its grasp
From the old unto the young, love it hold full sway
Religion, colour, race or creed all to it fall prey
Mingling, mixing all combine within the spell of love
Love can bring you ecstasy, love can blissful be
Yet from in its beauty pure, jealousy can spring
Cutting, slaying, anger deep, destroying like a weed
Clutching, tugging, twisting you, within it vice like grip
Love is understanding too, love no barrier sees
Love will bind the deepest wound, loves a healing balm
Ah, the paradox it seems, love is without form
Love and sorrow wed they be, yet love will conquer all
Love is cruel many say, yes its pain is true
Yet better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all
Tears I've wept, my eyes turned red, nights I've spent awake
Thoughts rewound and played once more within the mind's own eye
Past you cannot change my friend the future still remains
If love comes round to you my friend then take it in your arms
But love is cruel you say to me, yet love it makes you whole
Like the rose I pluck it up, its fragrance I imbibe
Drops of blood may trickle forth the thorns may cut and tear
But oh the perfume, ah what joy! It's worth it all I say!


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