Love hurts, <br />It hurts to the core <br />When hands loosen the intimate clasp <br />And they turn poles apart <br />One rushing to the North <br />And the other, South. <br /> <br />Love hurts, <br />It hurts to the core <br />When the bunch of withered roses <br />And thorns, leaves and stems <br />Gather dust on the window sill <br />Of a dishevelled house. <br /> <br />Love hurts, <br />It hurts to the core <br />When they don't look eye to eye, <br />And Love is no more blind, <br />For a raging storm from nowhere takes over <br />The effeminate steam of <br />The wintry-morning cup of tea, <br />Over the bitter argument <br />Of perfect spoon of sugar, <br />To be or not to be added <br />To the flavour of real Indian tea. <br /> <br />Love hurts, <br />It hurts to the core <br />For the waiting hurts me more.<br /><br />R.K Das<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-hurts-81/
