Love is overrated
Misunderstood, miscalculated.
It is the morning mist,
A dew rested on the grass.
In the warmth, it ceases to exist.
with the heat of the sun, it's gone.
Love demands caring,
Demands nourishment,
The constant attention of 5minus4 senses.
Love always dies slow,
Suffocating agony, a hard ignore.
Love is the cancer of the balls.
It's a haunting acoustic of an empty hall.
Echo bouncing off of the wall.
Love is at first,
Stardust, a diamond that shimmers.
Gold that's glistened with worth.
It's the first rain.
The first poetry a poet pens.
It's the first word uttered.
It's all metaphorical yet all literal.
It revolts, it's a rebel and a revolution.
At its...