Poison

Love.

 

 

The kind that makes grown men cry,

fall to their knees and die.

 

the kind that has launched a thousand ships,

and has brought together even more lips.

 

That love that kills us softly,

and raises the weak who cry awfully.

 

The kind that is like a poison slipped into a drink,

changing us so we are not who we think.

 

Hearts beat, stutter, falter and fail.

making life wonderful, killer, and your body frail.

 

But the light dimed, the shadows lengthened,

and you find that you haven't been strengthened.