The Forever Kind.

When the warmth of his hand,

Clings to mine,

I feel a rush of Happiness,

Ecstasy,

Possibilities,

Desire,

Trust,

Hue,

And Bliss,

In other words, Love.

The kind that doesn't die,

It makes you feel fortunate,

It creates a rainbow in your heart,

It makes your brain explode into fireworks,

It makes the spark in your eye flare,

And from time to time, it makes you cry,

But It won't just erupt, due to a gust of wind,

Because It give you that feeling of Blurred Happiness, 

Dim Ecstasy,

Hazy Possibilities,

Distant Desire,

Doubtful Trust,

Faint Hue,

And Vague Bliss,

Or as most say, Love,

The sort that pulls you in,

Every time.

The Forever Kind.

   

Author's Note

What do you think:

Reviews

[Frank F. Atanacio]

I simply loved everything about this poem-- simply everything :)