“Love is bittersweet,

Love is like a fragrance that lingers,

Love is like playing house together,

As we intertwine our fingers.”

A gaudy love poem written with no association to heartstrings.

We worry if we break these so-called “love links” tomorrow,

like a broken zipper that misaligns the notches.

We worry that the game of house will end with a divorce.

Leading to a dramatic series of beers and ice cream vats.

We hope that our future dreams don’t vanish

like yawns that allows the soul to escape the body,

only to mindlessly wander in a prison of air.

We look for the perfect, burning, passionate love, but soon find out that the

sparks of “love at first sight” die out so soon, into a smolder,

unless continuously kindled.

“Love is like a snowflake.

Can you keep it afloat with affection?

With everything that it will take,

Don’t let love be swayed by winds of misdirection.”

Good advice to follow.

We wonder how things will turn out tomorrow.

Can we predict an outcome?

It’s always a game of 50/50.

You can only know so much without the help of a psychic-type Pokemon.

Tomorrow is like a stubborn housewife that constantly wakes you at 6:00 for breakfast.

When in actuality you have an alarm set an hour later.

But you’ll get up anyway and greet her with a kiss

And then childishly ask for five more minutes.

She’ll keep nagging, but you don’t mind.

You like to annoy her ’til you’ve finally had enough and crawl out of bed.

“Love is like opening the windows,

let the falling snow in.

Guide her to you, under the mistletoe,

and plant her head with your chin.”

Love is the anxiety-driven challenge that makes anyone’s hearts go aflutter.

Love is more that first kiss and the endless love confessions.

Love is popping the bubble, invading personal spaces.

Love is … (insert your name here).

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