Love is not all, it is not water or roses
It is not the good slumber or the sound of rain
Not yet beauty, men war for it and fight women
Because of it, it’s not all peace in difficult hours
Love cannot fill the heavenly lungs with air
Or feed the family of floating orphans
Love is in a way, an indulgence of the rich
Who may be driven to sell their love for peace
And in compromise, lose more than half of themselves
Or trade the memory of our brief encounter of it
For night and food and other bare necessities
Love, no, is not all, it is not sunlight or hope necessarily
Though it can make us smile easily enough
Even as I speak, many lack it and may be dying of its lack
I’ve been lonely for most of my life, I would know
Hearing your…
View original post 41 more words

