A Poem about Love

Love is like a dove,
As it soars up above.
Malicious hunters on the ground
Can shoot the little birdie down.

Love is like a rose,
Developing beauty as it grows.
But out in the open, the rose lies
Where it is plucked, withers and dies.

Love is like honey and milk,
Made of texture smoth as silk.
But as rapid as drying ink blots,
It curdles and churns, sickeningly rots.

Love is like a smile,
The cheery glow is worth the while,
But when it fades,
Upon razor blades,
It disappears
Into our darkest fears.

Love is like the mind.
Everchanging, unstable,
Unsure, and unreliable.

Never trust the dove,
For there will always lie a hunter,
Watching with prying eyes.
Waiting for the grave where lovers lie.