What is love?

We find it in memories,

In dictionaries,

In philosophies,

And in lies.

You tell me the word

The definition

And what it means to you

I say it's

The precision of an algorithm

The sharp friction of turning pages

The scratch of an ink pen

The conversations had in silence

The order found in direction

The emotion long ago lost

You say it's

The surprise of spontaneity

The soft wood of a well-used instrument

The hum of cord beneath your fingers

The silent meanings in loud music

The chaos found in rebellion

The emotion that's ever growing

We are heartless

Just minions

Just memories

Just words

Just ghosts

Insentient

Transient

Translucent

What everyone else reflects onto us

What is the difference?


Ean: I wrote something? What? Actually, I've been writing lots of things, but I finished something? Unheard of! ^^; Here's a short little drabble/poem for those who have been waiting patiently.