Love is the brightest pink of the purest pink rose <br />and the softest music played from afar. <br />Its taste is as sweet as chocolate-covered strawberries. <br />It smells like the air after a fresh rainstorm <br />and is as picturesque as the crimson sunset. <br />Love makes me feel warm. <br /> <br />Love is white, the color of religion and spirituality. <br />It sounds like doves' wings beating delicately against the breeze. <br />Love tastes like fresh-squeezed wine <br />and has the fragrance of fresh-washed sheets. <br />It appears in the form of the blue moon, a rare but beautiful sight. <br />Love makes me feel whole. <br /> <br />Love is purple like royalty, the color of power and control. <br />It sounds like a fist crushing your already-breaking heart. <br />It has the taste of desire, of wanting what you cannot have. <br />Love smells like sour plums that have not yet ripened, <br />and it looks like a pasture destroyed by a bloody battle. <br />Love makes me feel helpless. <br /> <br />Love is the color of the blood that pours from your veins. <br />It comes in silence and leaves you with a cry of agony. <br />Its taste is that of bittersweet happiness; <br />its aroma is like a poisoned perfume, killing anyone who detects it. <br />You cannot see love, but you know when it's there <br />because you still feel it when it's gone. <br />Love makes me feel desolate. <br /> <br />Love is as black as the Reaper's cloak swishing in the darkness. <br />It sounds like the hearse slowly driving in the streets, <br />carrying away the dearly departed. <br />Love taste like unsweetened coffee left out to spoil. <br />It smells of the blood that was shed and the debts repaid, <br />and it looks like a cemetery headstone; <br />it is only a forgotten name, a lost memory. <br />Love makes me feel dead. <br />Love is the slowest form of suicide.<br /><br />Kailee Williams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rosa-della-morte/
