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Thursday, February 12, 2015

What is love? Freewriting.

What is love?
Is it real?
There's no validation for the way I feel.
What is this feeling?
A selfish ploy?
Perhaps to fill my insecure void.
If I was truly confident
Would I need you here?
Would I still appreciate those words I need to hear?
Is love an object?
One that cannot not be held...
But truly felt.
Holding us close together as would a strong buckled belt.
Whatever it is...
It seems I have no choice in this matter.
Because its become a part of me that does not tatter.
It wraps around me in my time of need, although to you it lays unseen.
What is love?
Is it real?
How could something so beautiful,
Keep itself concealed,
While warming me and swarming me,
With feelings so surreal.

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