Love Is Invisible

Love is an invisible thing.

Something felt.

Something warm.

Something that makes a heart sing.

Loving is an invisible thing.

But the expression of love is unmistakeable.

The desire to always be with whom we love,

Is expressed in our thoughts,

Our actions,

Our words,

And unbreakable embraces.

Love is a two way street,

Where one person alone cannot be the only lover.

For this is how love is poison,

Poison to the brain and poison to the heart.

Where that person, if alone

Will drive down that street and will never be stopped by the other.

Until oblivion.

Love might be invisible,

But it is made tangible through our actions. 

Compassion, grief, affection, attention, adoration, and comprehension.

To make love the blanket which should envelop any two people,

Those two people must work together sewing that blanket.

Love is invisible,

But loving is not.

An Aching Heart

Heart strings are puled by the hand that rests atop
The pressure of the world is that of the body above
And tears come from the eyes which she cannot see

Caressing and kissing
Memorizing one another
Exchanging emotional words
Fueled by the reactions inside

Burnt into the skin and the heart is the hand
The hand which rested atop.
The pressure remains
Only as a phantom unseen,
The tears flow freely
As the eyes remember
Each scene clearly.

Emotions inside swell with the force of an ocean
But only dark and hallow is the space
In place of the one, one is looking for

Is this how broken love feels
Like mourning the loss of your soul
Of your humanity
A tide never to recede
Always a memory

Always an aching of the heart

This Feeling

What is that feeling inside? Where the insides tense, where the brain buckles down, and the stomach flips. What is that emotion when the person speaks, or is seen? What is that feeling that is felt? Where does it come from, why is it there, who put it there, can it go away, is it real, do they feel the same?

Could it be a myth? What all those people believe. Could it all be a lie? We live in a world built on lies and deception, and all around us it continues through every aspect of our culture. Humans cannot seem to live in an honest world. Humans cannot seem to always accept the facts, and instead, create their own dream world where the lies create a cover, to protect against the truth that hurts. 

But what is that feeling? When the insides tense, the the brain buckles down, and the stomach flips? Some people say that it is love, while other refuse to believe that such an emotion exists . It is just an idea that we made up. Just another lie in a world of lies. But then what is love, or what is that feeling? There are millions of people who claim to feel love. They go an do regretful things when they say that they are in love. Somethings that can never be repaired or given back. But then there are even more people, on this earth who claim to feel love. They are with someone who is dear to them and they have been for a very long time, if not their entire adult lives. There must be something between these people. Did these people feel the feeling inside? Where the insides tense, where the brain buckles down, and the stomach flips? Why are they together and not those other people. Who is telling the lie, and who is living a lie? 

Love is made up. It is just a word that describes something that we feel. It is from a time when much was cold, unknown and much was uncertain except that this feeling made you feel warm, somehow known, and clear in meaning. That two people could feel this for each other. Was a wonder. It made a euphoria, in which these two people could now live. No matter the circumstances, they would still have this feeling between them. Keeping them warm, comforted, and reassured. Today we still use this word, but the world has changed in so many ways could the feelings stay the same through time? Passion for one another seems to have been demeaned. Into an accessory, to a tool that only helps one in living a more substantial life. Genuine feelings are rare to come by, and are often left alone or taken advantage of. Why must it be this way for so many, and only the so few live in euphoria with each other, who genuinely care for one another and would sacrifice for one another. 

Writing this I want to make it known. Using love as a tool is a demeaning way to tint and disgrace us as humans. It is a vial act that ruins the lives of not only the people directly involved but also the other casualties, those who are innocent. Keep that in mind, and do not let the next generation grow up not knowing if love is real, or not.

Reputation

The essence of one’s being
What society is seeing
The reputation of a man
Is made by what one has done

Built by morals
Taught at an early age
Shaped on a world stage

If one is rash calm or wise
It will affect its size
If one is just and brave
Then that is how it will behave

The reputation of one
Is second only to one’s name
When one is though about

Mailable but strong as steel
One’s reputation is no small claim
For without it
One may never be sane

- Jenn.

While The World Spins

While the world spins around
And you stand still
You can see the sun set in the west
And you can see the moon rise in the east

You can imagine yourself
Your world spinning on its axis
Around the sun through space
On an arm of the milky way

You can imagine all the other people
Standing and looking
Looking at the wonder of the universe
How the wheel of life turns through the sky
And moves into the cosmos

While the world spins around
You can think of people at home
Or far away
Living under the same starry sky
Maybe sharing the performance you see
Or experiencing another act

While the world spins around
You can stand still
To wonder
And to wonder how could this be
And to wonder who am I
But one thing you must remember
Is to wonder
How am I going to be

Too Late

Have you ever been too late
Too late to tell someone
Too late to warn someone
Too late to confess to someone

I have been too late
Too many times
The feelings welling up before
Trying to make you say what you will
And when you do, the moment is gone
The person is gone
Or the worst
Someone said it before you

You feel like a fool
And there are two things you can do
Accept that you were too late
Or to still say what you will
Even if it is the worst time or place

You will do this second option no matter what
There is no use is beating yourself
And because you care
You care so much you spend every minute thinking about it
And you must never give up
On something or someone you cannot go a day without thinking about

The next time you will be braver
The next time you will not let myself slip
Slip into the dispare of being left behind
And having the words linger inside you

It is never to late
Especially if its meaningful
Or even if it is the most embarrassing thing you say

The Promises of the Young

There may have been a fight
A swear, a mess, or a smell
Anything to make you think

To think
I will never do that when I am grown up
I will never fight like that
I will never swear like that
Or I will never smell like that
And so you promise yourself that 

But as life continues in its circle
You end up making many promises
You promise that you will be the best father or mother possible
And on that faithful day when your first child is born you think back
To renew all of your promises from the past

But life has a way of working with history
In the sense that it repeats itself
And we may all break those promises
Probably not each one
But at some point we will break a few

So when you do and you can see your child sitting in the corner
Make sure to make up for it
Maybe not right afterward but soon
And it never hurts to make another promise