Love and Poetry

Maybe, if Love was a person, it-he?-she?- would take the form of a being, sexless, neither man nor woman, but beautiful and ethereal like the timeless image of a golden angel. But, in my head, the picture I see when I wonder who Love looks like isn’t and angel or a cherubic, chubby Cupid, but my own dear Silverblaze. Both her and Darkblood are based on two completely different perceptions of myself and how I would be if I were like them. Silverblaze, unlike Darkblood, likes people, but isn’t very good with them. She’s a little shyer, and a lot sweeter in nature. Sil is the part of me that falls in love, adores animals- especially baby animals- with a fierce, protective, overwhelming tenderness, and believes that there is some good in everybody. I see her, my good side, my human side, as the personification of Love. Her hair- shoulder-length, dark brown and curly like mine- falling in ringlets over her huge, liquid dark eyes, full of a sweet, joyful love. This is the kind of love that is overlaid across life like rose-tinted glasses, making life brighter and people better. She is beauty and goodness and Love- a modern, human Aphrodite.
And before I log off, a poem:

Compelled

Steal a heart and bring it back
Tame as a broken colt
Feel a feather, snaps a back
Gently taking hold
All through time shall love sustain
Memory, beauty, grace
Across all land love bringing pain
A touch, a voice, no face.
A shadow worrying in my mind
Asking once again
If we were closer, space and time,
Would there have been this pain?