What is love?, I wonder, pondering into myself,
Deep inside the forest there lies a small pond with flowers afloat,
Two swans with their necks intertwined silhouetteing a heart,
Is that love? Or is it that vivid imagination of mine,
My eyes try to search for a face in the chaos of my plate,
Maybe that is love? The rice showed me nothing,
Writhing inside for answers is that feeling unkempt,
A yearning to understand those melancholies of the cinema,
Imploring the meaning of those lyrics, the mind toils hard,
What is love? I might never know,
Significance of the red rose and the bled heart eludes my soul,
Desperation not, but what makes them time-ignorant in those phone calls?
Maybe the prospect of living together or the anticipations of things?
Or do they just lust about each other, mutually?
Would that be love? Maybe, maybe not,
Her touch and His kiss is revered, Tell me why,
Who defines the point of love from friendship?
So many questions, so many answers, but none for me,
What does a person who knows no love do?
He sits there with his pen dripping his heart onto the paper.
With a single question echoing within him, What is love?
~Let Me Know