Love can be black and white like a film.

Love plays throughout our life times.

Love is like a picture that has a 1000 words of enjoyment and disappointments.

But it sure is worth everything.

The pain, the enjoyment, and everything it made up to be.

Love can hurt us but we can't hurt it.

But if there's one thing I sure do know about love is,

it's sure damn hard to hold on to.

Gay people deserved to be love too, as for all the rest as well.

Love is a rainbow, when it rains red rose petals.

Yet it dances like lights in the sky, made of bright blue dye.

Holding together as if time fell apart and

still it doesn't seem to lose its thought of it's reason.

Its image was made of greenish brown dried leaves,

only to be coating in grey steel for eternity.

It finishing touch is of pure yellow skin,

yet becomes bruised from heartache's end.

I wonder if a feeling looks pink and purple,

cause once you put a ring on your mate,

they stop to breathe, and look at the colors of a rainbow left from the breeze.

And the last words they see in the sky is

"I do believe in miracles, because you were brought to me."