Love
written by: Paula Puolakka
Love: I do not comprehend.
People are walking into the rooms
without any intention of
making the meetings amicable.
Love: I do not want to pretend.
I’m sick and tired of the charades
since our souls are already hidden inside
the costumes made out of skin, flesh, and bone.
Love: I do not give a damn
if you’re 48, 59, 67, 78, or 85
as long as you are here for me,
and with me, all you feel is tranquility.
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