Love is all these things

Sweet
Like a rose

Painful
Like its thorn

Soft
Like fresh blankets

Warm
Like the sun

Safe
Like a mother's embrace

Dangerous
Like the rapids

Passion
Like the flame

Growing
Like the oak

Etched into memory
Impossible to forget
Clinging desperately
To shreds.

Author's Note

Here's the usual disclaimer about my questionable poetic skills.