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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.
