Love appears as soft, with never ending delication

Love looks so peaceful to the upholder with dedication

But what about those with no information, those with unclear intensions

Love knocks awfully awkward, it banging doors loud will get you suspicious so it enters like a thief on some mission

Hearts get stolen, getting the beholder already fallen

Like the weather you are never sure how quick it changes from sunny days to storming pouring rainy nights

Shutters of glasses with special emotions, changes in how the love culture is viewed

In other words love has its own definition you cannot tame it it’s never a domestic issue 

It is a rose with thorns, be careful how you hold it

To survive ignore the pain and the blood running down your palm and look at how beautiful the rose is 

But the question is, can you really admire something that when you are with it you lose an important part of you daily?