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.
