A love is precious and far between;
few ever see a true love
A scent of one close,
... A touch or a smile of such sweetness,
which can't be caught and kept, except
deep within one's mind.
So bittersweet it hurts one's heart so.
Love is a divine gift given us.
So carefree and frivolous.
But love's last teardrop is so crushing.
To lose such a love is death within itself.
A crushing of one's soul;
an unending pain of such hurt,
bringing to shatter one's soul in peaces,
as glass would break.
It rips one's love who is true in despair.
"Love survives all", I'm told,
but only after the last teardrop falls.
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