Mistakes

Love's tough part,

making the relation,

through the tough art,

of surviving its tribulations.

Perhaps we may find,

through its perils in disguise,

a way to love with disdain,

to never forfeit our life.

Perhaps we may find,

just as hope diminishes,

one to submit the crime,

and secede love to failure.

Perhaps we may find,

law in its demolition,

forgoing the fight of mind,

until love has no more recognition.

Or perhaps the only thing awaiting,

through trials life gravitates,

is the sudden reembrace of love,

and it cannot be regulated.

Love is true, love is wise,

love may juxtapose basic principles,

those which we obey,

through command of our eyes.

But love is undeniable, never undesirable.

When our cold-hearted souls,

through intentions of mystery, 

cast off our values,

making our love history,

I await your embrace,

not once more, but until I lose you;

for the past and present forget the future,

though history will never perfect,

it is its future that can only regret.

Love is cruel, love is tarnished,

yet I await your arrival,

after mistakes have diminished,

Because, well, I Love You.