You tell me that true love is
fake, and yet I wonder are you
bitter? Has your heart been
turned to stone?

Maybe it is the weather that makes
you sad about the past?
As you hold your clothing for the
warmth against the chilling winds.
You tell me that love is not there,
and sometimes I believe you are
right.

We sit over a cup of coffee, and
you bear your soul like a shield.
I tell you that you are wrong, and
our debates keeping going till
the lark cries out the morning
sun.

We go our separate ways, and you
tell me we shall discuss this
another time. When we both
are in good nature, but maybe
we both are right in our thoughts
of life.

Maybe love is what we create in
our souls to make it worth living.
Maybe we are just pawns to our own
fantasy. I hope we are not for love
even how fragile it is; burns in our souls and in our desires.

10/04/2001

Posted on 10/04/2001
Copyright © 2024 Christopher Shin