Love is Love is Love

Words that should have been spoken are now lost

As the invisible clock ticks and chimes

If the bridge falls, how does one get across?

One could only mourn the end of their prime

All that is left are etches on paper

Of the tints and shade of memories old

No one could ask for something much greater

When there is a blanket to warm the cold

Who would want to lick frost off the windows?

For it stabs and burns the tongue with blue flames

Should we uncover the dead man's heroes?

No, for we tamper with history's veins

Yet, love is love is love will not vanish

As it surrenders all to its madness