I often fancy that love is like writing.

Built from the heart, but crafted from our words,

It is eloquent, always inviting,

And innocent like the songs of the birds.


Any love story needs some revision;

Two lovers don’t always see eye to eye,

But if a future they can envision,

They ought to give the next chapter a try.


Only together can you turn the page

Or end a sentence with a question mark.

Until you reach the smiles of old age,

And cherish that you never fell apart.


Yet while every story must come to close,

End to true love is something no one knows.


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