More than love

My lipstick is still on your sleeve

And mid-day sun is hung above.

Haste, my dear, it's time to leave,

Or else they claim it all as love.

I see the poets spend the day

In weak attempts to rhyme my lips

With honey of the words you say

To send the shiver down my hips.

And passers-by examine me

As if I was a piece of art,

To find that glow that has to be

Inside a loving woman's heart.

'Of course it's love!' the birds will sing

And spread the gossip into mass.

They only need a wedding ring

To classify the two of us.

They cannot see that things we feel

Are not another novel's plot.

The beating of my heart is real

And so is yours, but love is not.

They say that you're my fiancé

And I am your romantic dove...

But they will understand someday

That things we feel are more than love.

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