Too Often It Was Pain

I was told love was pure.
Love was kisses on the cheek,
hugs from behind when you didn’t expect them.
Love was not locking the door,
just if love wanted to see you.
Love was caring,
when no one else was.
Love was all there was sometimes.
Love was forgetting your friends,
but making sure your love was smiling.
Love was dreams sometimes,
waking up to the truth;
it didn’t exist anymore.
Love was not going to bed,
because you’re sickly in love with seeing their face every night.
Love was pure pain sometimes.

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