To the old skin whose scars
have crack open.
To refuse the clutches of hate
when it pushes me aback and
awaken – the wounds that were
Jabbed but couldn't learn to rant
open.
The rain have mumbled its
rage to the storm, this is its
wounded plea;
Love is like a miracle
But many aren't believers
I, for example is a bull to the belief.
I know love in broken hearts
I find it in tears – hung to salvation
by loosen hopes that tart
A vengeful hurricane
bottled in my patience knows
it precisely well
A soul that is ones broken
Pretend to never crave it
but prayed for its touch
entirely well.
Love sheathes a time to cherish
Not wield another to perish.
Love is making promises to embrace
me justly – not cowardly.
Love is the heart without a reason to
falter.
Love anchors my heart at the shore of
God, deep rooted in his ocean of love
and trust.
Love is resting on the shoulder of anxiety
And still nest hope.
Love is not rosy
Love is not hurt
Love is finding the balance between