Is love merely a game of "Chance?" Hoping that he will love her. And she will love him. Or is it a burning rage of fury which seems that burning rage seems to make you want more? As it becomes casual and delicate. The hurt and hate, becomes love and desire. I feel that if I were to love you, it would suffice.

It would be my choice, as not to be a game of "Chance." Or to be that burning rage in the slightest way. But to be a yearning, casual summer's day. That would never end. As I wish you loved me that way I love you. Would my love suffice with you?

As a dainty dandelion blows in the wind. The beautiful white seeds that fly through the air. Letting you know that the past is forgotten, and the future is remembered. Of what I've seen, I think our love may suffice. If it were a dream, it would come true. If only dreams weren't meant for sleeping.

But the desire of your sweet lips, seem to call to me like a sweet song. A song that never comes out of my head. Embedded to the temperal thoughts I think everyday. I wish my love for you was not like "Clue." You're wondering, and I'm wondering. And we say we think this happened, or that happened. Just like a game. But is love merely a game?