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Click hereIt dies so easily
It blossoms
The beauty fills you
The fragrance intoxicates
You feel you did not exist before it
You feel you cannot exist without it
It completes you so well
That you forget
How delicate it is
That at the first harshness
Of the bright sharp sun
Known as reality
Love dies
So easily.
Love is the "act"; but with deep emotional involvement - not just raw sex.
She meets with an intent to communicate love through the act. She does. It is beautiful. And then - she cannot sustain the relationship. Preferring what she MUST do, to what she WANTS to do; or what you want her to do. Thence the poetry ....