I have not been kind to youYet you have supported all my whims I have not been respectful of youYet you have always done your best by me I have not taken care of you as you deserveYet you have striven to keep me safe
The prognosis was badBut our enthusiasm was highNow that we had an expiry onOur time togetherWe decided nothing mattered moreThan burying the hatchetAnd moving aheadLike we were starting anew.
What do you think love isI asked my circle that dayWe were 18 then,So our dreams were tinged with unrealityUnbroken by adulthoodUnrestrained by truthDoused in optimismAnd all those romances we had read.
You said girls who can play the guitar are hotSo I went and enrolled myself into a guitar class. You said ‘Hero’ was your favourite songSo I tried to learn how to sing it for you.
Everyone thought that we were foolishThat things would never work outThey even went as far as to sayWe were too young to knowAll the heartbreak our union would cause.
Love: this four-letter wordHolds power in its graspthat can move mountains, raise floodsInspire you to greatnessDrive you to madnessButWhat does this four-letter word mean to me?