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.
Take a trip inside my mind as I share timely insights, musings, and perspectives on life, love, and everything in between.
12 April 2013
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