Not all love will leave a butterfly in your stomach.

Not all love will awake those sweet spring day dream.

When hearing of love, Fantasies blows thoughts of red roses luring glow,

Kisses at sunset, hands in hands, the eyes will meet at slumber end.

Woo! Sweet dreams. Awe dawn must not wake this hour.

No, not all love will spike the flames of gold, When our eyes first met with your blur forgery smiles.

I taught of...