Love Is Wicked Poem by Roheemah Oyerinde

Love is wicked.
It hurts,
It shatters the heart that gives it,
It fixes it and crumbles it again,
This minute, love shows up fair,
Then next, it burns,
And then it weakens,
It then stands still again,
Tell me, is it not wicked?


The love that makes you connect,
And forces patience on you afterwards,
This minute, It comes so sweet,
And then next, it shows up to break,
Is this fair?

Love mends,
Love is kind and soft,
Love loosen,
And then turns stiff,
Love is necessary,
But is still wicked.