I pity those who think they know love,
talking foolishly of it unknowing the core.
Those who wake up together in hatred,
forgotten how to be while acting as if still lovers.
I think of love never fully yet whole.
Its complex form always changing,
and when you think you understand you realize you don't know it at all.
No one knows love for it can't be known only felt.
Its invisible shades can't be gazed upon,
yet it meets you, changes you, makes you whole.
Loves creates while at the same time it takes all.