what is love, really?
is it mindlessly romanticizing the butterflies of your imagination?
or is it the short-lived honey-dipped so-called "never-ending" conversations?
is it to quietly blur the boundaries between consent and acceptance?
or is it to blindly allow the violation of your body that slowly shatters your existence?
is it longing for that intimacy which may go astray if the going gets tough?
or it is normalising the infidelity despite having that privilege of being loved?
is it that unadulterated desire to be with the person you have set your heart on?
or is it this shallow feeling wrapped in an inherent fear of loneliness you might have to live on?
what is love, really?
Yeah, I know... an old poem... this is cheating... whatever! *blowing raspberries*
NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 5: Write your own poem about how a pair or trio of very different things would perceive a blessing or, alternatively, how these very different things would think of something else (luck, grief, happiness, etc).
Umm... why in the devil's name do these NaPoWriMo guys give such complicated titles? Anyway, see you tomorrow!
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