Thursday, 11 April 2013

NaPoWriMo: Day 11

You cannot quantify love.
It could be the brisk morning and the dew;
That is love to a lemon.
Cool and cooling,
Droplets on its yellow sweet skin.

You cannot quantify love.
It could be that heap of shit;
That is love to the beetle.
Stench and stinking,
A honey like, sweet taste.

You cannot quantify love.
It could be razor sharp to a wrist;
That is love to another.
Dripped and dripping,
Red pools of passion.


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