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This poem is to the woman I hurt behind this word called love,

Everybody seems to think if you love easy then it will end hard.

If you give it fast it will kill you slowly.  Do I love you, do I love you?  Of course I do.   Differently from how I love them.  

Differently from how I love you, but let me explain this the best way I can.   This is something I have to do.

If I controlled who loved, or who you give up to, I give it to you, the one with that smile, with those dimples so cute.  

I'll be the first to say baby I love you.   Seems like my odds are against me, my evens resent me, 'cause I love so much, I'm filled up completely.

If you could wear my skin for a moment you could see, I give it out of honors, I never give it freely.  

It's so much that falls under the pressure, of love being a treasure.   You value it forever.

Mama once told me be careful of the carrier, cause a heart can be broken, sometimes can't repair them. 

Amends.   It all depends, don't wear them in case of an accident, this ain't what you hide against pride, wear it like it's meant.   

But I'm sorry to all the ones I loved, I really meant it, wouldn't take it back not for a minute, so I'm going to tell it like it's told, I love you, yeah I really do.

Never lied one time, but it's hard to choose.

I love her so much, but I love you too, can't stop the way I feel.   My love for you is oh so real….

There's no measurement to love, it's unconditional.   iI sneaks up on you, unpredictable.    No side won't be taken, so it's not liberal.

But it means what it says, so I take it literal.   It does things at night, superficial.

I know right and wrong, call it judicial.   It gets straight to the point, it's quite simple.

Stays on my mind, call it stuck temple.   So I give it in quantitude to the loves of my life, 'cause I love to love, I can't help who I love, it's just how it goes.

If loving you so right, then I can't be wrong.

You can say it how you like, but this is my love Poem.

Even if short while wish it could be long,

Been giving it awhile now, night to morn, guess why they call it lovers born.





See all poetry for Derrick Woolridge #01796449