This Thing Called Love
Cold empty heart
A soft pink moon
We all dance
To a much sadder tune
Thoughts enraged
Vision blurred
One so speaks
But is not heard
First we rise
Then the fall
No control
Of it after all
Feelings suppressed
Opportune time
I embraced your love
You used mine
Why do we strive
To rise above
I hate this thing
This thing called love
Copyright 2009 © William J. Fleitz
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