Fickle Love

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The velvety softness,
Caressing my finger tips
Makes me feel invincible
For I know, one snap of my fingers
And this sweet little thing
Will be for forever,
Gone. Lost. Perished.

I’d compare it to love,
Their beauty resembles each other.
But I know love is fickle.
For once the heart is broken,
It will never love,
The same way again.
Or perhaps never love at all.
The flower though,
Will diligently grow again.

However, just like the smell of the crushed flower
Lingers on my fingertips,
The memories of love will linger
On my heart.
Perhaps forever. 

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2 thoughts on “Fickle Love

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