Love is a strange feeling.
Is it felt in the heart or somewhere else?
Is it truly love, or is it lust?
At this age, it's difficult to feel the difference.
I thought I felt Love once;
It was warm and sweet,
Made me feel like I was flying.
But with flying comes falling,
And falling is far easier than flying,
I find.
Falling is easier,
It feels like flying,
Because I can still feel the wind,
And for a while,
The love that I thought I felt from whoever it was
Is still there.
Only a little bit,
But when I'm desperate because I'm falling,
I hold onto it like a lifeline.
But still,
I'm falling,
And I'm going to land soon.
Love is still strange.
I don't know when it will be found in this life.
Maybe it never will.
But I still feel that fleeting graze of wings
And sometimes I can remember
The air around me
And of someone loving me
YOU ARE READING
Poems That I Form
PoetryI ask for no comments, votes, or anything. This is a place I can rant quietly without anyone needing to be a mandated reporter.
