Love To The Unloved.

Love is strange, it makes you break the rules you yourself made.
Love is strange, it makes you do things you know you cant.
Love is strange, it desires possessions that were never truly yours to begin with.
Love is an irony.
Love is that shadow of the object you can never see. You can never feel, never touch.
Love is sense.
Love wants you to live your life to the fullest, yet it creates consequences that leaves you stranded among the crowd.
Love is the carnival we all watch from a distance, once you're in there is no turning back.
Love is a roller coaster, a new height every time, a deeper sink, undefined. It makes you sick, but you enjoy every bit of it.
Love makes you run away, yearns for freedom but love creates a prison around you, confined in those four walls your senses, your desires, your soul. But these iron bars cant hold my soul in. All I need is you, come please I'm calling. All I reach for you, hurry, I'm falling.
Love makes you lose your freedom, captures you in the prison where you're never alone, your prison your sanctuary where dreams come alive.
Love is every bit of hope that leaves you hopeless, every breath that makes you breathless, every care that makes you careless.
Love is the sense of belonging that makes you feel forsaken.
Love comes with two, yearns with two, begins with two, leaves you alone. Alone, as one. Unity with devoid love.
Love is sacrifice , sacrifice of yourself, your dreams, your hopes, for the dream and hope of another, for yourself.
Love is the closed door through which we watch the spirit fall. The closed window through which we watch liberty play. For freedom is never free.
Love is the only game we love to lose, the game that we can never quit though we want to.
Love you long for when its lacking, when its over, when its too little, too late.
Love is the painkiller that stings with pain.
Love has the purity of a dirty game.
Love has the youthful charm of an antique.
Love has the wisdom of touch.
Love is the gift of forgiveness, the curse of pleasure.
Love is the burning desire of an inflamed kiss.
Love is the sweet memory we edge to forget.
Love is the empty threat that destroys every hollow lie.
Love is the gift of time that slips through your fingers.
Love is the soulful promise, the dried flower preserved in the forgotten pages of an ancient book.Love is the choice of choosing right when all you're left with is wrong.
Love has those moments of cold, those flashes of light.Love is doing things we never want to do again, things that always seemed right.
Love, to you I never want to say good bye.
Love is phenomenal.
Love is miraculous.
Love is eccentric.
Love is still strange.