Love To the Nice Man
The nice man asked me once
a question, I gave some thought too,
he seemed curious and entranced
so I listen to what he said:
What is love he asked
is it just a mere word,
since its widely spoken aloud
by faithful hearts
and deceitful mouths
Is it but a weapon
used to make grown men primitive
and wild?
And grown women hysterical, jealous
and vile?
Maybe it’s used to tame,
make the men grovel
make women beg
Or maybe a state of being
Maybe a state of mind
Happy and coy,
The dreamy smiles.
The joy.
I answered
yes it’s a word,
a word I want to tell you everyday
Maybe it’s a weapon,
one you’ve used to capture my heart.
A state of being,
for I am joyous, being here with you.
Love is how it feels like to be with you.
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