old love

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Old love is mature
it flys no butterflys
it writes no poems anymore
old love stands by your side
respecting you.
 
Young love is fresh
it explodes
confuses
it floods your lungs and legs
with music
 
young love dies young
letting you dryout in regret
and melancholy
while old love stays with you
till the very end.
 
True love, however, is out of time
neither young, nor old
 
And i haven’t known it yet
and i’m getting older
with every old love
and young love
that i met.

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