Anecdote of love
Neither like the cologne of roses
nor was he the summer's sun
an insatiable appetite for affection,
was simultaneously the touch of snowflake and fire's burn.
spades and camouflaged blades
drunk damsel in distress,
bullet wounds patched up with band-aids.
smiles forged and frozen in fading fantasies
fragile heart flushed out in the rage of atrocities.
My first love broke my heart
stoned up with the loop of time
is this the love they write ballads about?