my passion for you,
you may never know,
so why is it that we hide all our love behind something called hate?
why do we even hate when we know we will die soon anyway?
to say we love may be a lie,
but to say we hate also is.
my passion for love may never be witnessed,
but witnessed is love that has never been seen.
Comments about this poem (Passion by David Lomenick )
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