The stamp of love

 

We will recover from hate

but never from love

if it has gone wrong,

Brightest smiles have the potential

to sire bitterest tears,

Lovely sweetness can easily

change to ugly sourness,

Petals hide thorns.

In love we are

on the edge of a precipice,

That’s why it’s exciting

and not boring like

the plateau of other common emotions,

We are at a titillating height

and feel floating over the lower terrain,

But we are on the edge,

On an edgy adventure of

body, mind and soul,

Mostly we fall below into the pit,

Dump or get dumped

into the heap of pain,

Then we see some lovely new face

peering over the edge,

And again we crawl up,

holding the rope of hope.

One may climb as many times

as one can manage

but the bruises of at least one fall

remain there forever on our flesh,

However hard one tries to heal it

with the ointment of fresh loves,

the scar but remains

with its peculiar purple leering smile.