Bloom

I used to think love
Was more like a spark
Where it shined so bright
Before it was lost in the dark

It was a toil, a trouble
A sweater with wear.
A long drawn out essay
With remarks of despair.

A chore and a task
If I do what for them
Then I can have peace
All their spite can end.

But maybe there's more,
Like a still blooming petal.
Like a succulent nectar
And less like a nettle

And maybe, just maybe
There's a sweet song somewhere
Where my heavy heart isn't
Only my burden to bear