Love is a familiar friend of mine.
I have an adoration for love. Yet I loathe love all at once.
Love is perched at the nook of my room, waiting to see who comes.
Love seeks people to fall for, and assures me who I am to trust.
I know love means no harm, but at times I find myself wanting nothing more than for love to disappear. For all my desires, to be mopped clean.
I long for the day to come, when love does not disappoint or leave me hurting here. For love is a familiar friend, that I hold to myself very dear.