it is, afterall, love :)

I have read and agreed to the terms of service

By accepting the terms of this agreement, you represent and warrant that you have the capacity to love.

Any similarity to a previous love is circumstantial; this love is not affiliated with other loves.
We assume no responsibility for for the shortcomings of prior loves;
we do, however, assume all responsibility for any loss, error, or communication failure incurred while in possession of this love.
It is, after all, love.

Love is available as is; no specific results are promised.
If you are at all unhappy, you are encouraged to return love.
If you find love to be damaged or defective, well, it's love.
Slight imperfections are to be expected, and add to the character of love.

Love may occasionally send you poems, letters, or declarations of its continuance. If you wish to opt out of this correspondence, you may cancel your account at any time.

The service may be temporarily unavailable from time to time; this may be due to maintenance, or periods of reflection. It in no way implies or forecasts termination of love, unless specifically stated so.

By accepting this agreement, you agree not to abuse love by acting in a manner inconsistent with the provisions listed above.

(please say yes)

of poems read

charmed right to my molecules,

I allow myself to play the fool;

though heartache dots the final line,

in the meantime, love, it feels divine.

-------------------------------------------

Allow me then to be the tool

to rock you to your molecules.

If heartache be the bottom line,

hand me a pen; I'll countersign.

love makes me silly

you're the

fortune

in my

cookie

x

o

x

If You Forget Me

by Pablo Neruda

I want you to know

one thing.

You know how this is:

if I look

at the crystal moon, at the red branch

of the slow autumn at my window,

if I touch

near the fire

the impalpable ash

or the wrinkled body of the log,

everything carries me to you,

as if everything that exists,

aromas, light, metals,

were little boats

that sail

toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,

if little by little you stop loving me

I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly

you forget me

do not look for me,

for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,

the wind of banners

that passes through my life,

and you decide

to leave me at the shore

of the heart where I have roots,

remember

that on that day,

at that hour,

I shall lift my arms

and my roots will set off

to seek another land.

But

if each day,

each hour,

you feel that you are destined for me

with implacable sweetness,

if each day a flower

climbs up to your lips to seek me,

ah my love, ah my own,

in me all that fire is repeated,

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,

my love feeds on your love, beloved,

and as long as you live it will be in your arms

without leaving mine

"People who love only once in their lives are. . . shallow people. What they call their loyalty, and their fidelity, I call either the lethargy of custom or their lack of imagination."

- Oscar Wilde

Hemingway never grew out of adolescence. His scope and depth stayed shallow because he had no idea what women are for.

ayesha

i could if you would.. but you choose emptiness. just as you're blind to all things bright. i hear the bells.. i guess you are deaf as well. and the butterflies..do you know too much.. or is there something missing..o dear. i fly everyday and i love and i live.. .. chkashrumpbrumb ..and i desire..that is to say the only place you fit in.

Tumko dekhaa toh yeh khayal aaya

zindagi dhoop tum ghana saaya

aaj phir dil ne ek tamanna ki

aaj phir dil ko humne samjhaya

tum chalen jaoge toh sochenge

humne kya khoya, humne kya paaya

hum jise gunguna nahin sakte

waqt ne aisa geet kyun gaya