To find love's feather in life
is to try and catch it
while the wind floats it towards the sky,
it becomes an obsession to hold,
stumbling and falling at times,
wondering if it is really worth the chase.
Then it falls into the hands,
which stroke your insides with its passionate plume,
bringing sensations of pleasure and pain,
mixed in agonize combinations,
but touching unlike anything else imaginable.
Mind falls into a hole of confusion,
until one can't see the past or future,
but is no longer alone
because the one who sees your beauty
in any darkness
willingly sits in the same chaos
so as to not be separated from your life again.
Never does it become heaven
though paradise does kiss the moment
along with purgatory.
Happiness becomes being a yo-yo
unable to stop moving
between the highs and lows
where the heart bends.
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