Love is the most beautiful thing ever
Its the special bloom in never
And the bright shine in summer
the fragment glowing enmber

But why do I fear it so
Is it the clutching choke of expectations
Or the frightening stare of judgment
Perhaps the necessary acceptance

I've never been much of a believer, at least not in Love.
The idea of it is a sweetness I love to divulge in, albeit exergerated.
Making someone your world or becoming someone's world
Is...