Three breaths of love

A poem about what I like to call "the three breaths of love"

The first breath of love is always sweetest

Yet almost always the one that's fleetest

It hits like the strongest,deepest bass drum

Leaving you to feel temporally numb

The second breath isn't so strong

For some, the end of a sweet love song

Slapping you in the face like a stick of thorns

Leaving you in the pain of what it mourns

In the third breath  love grows weak

No longer gentle, no longer meek

By this point it should be put to rest

As it is now a lover is the one they detest

The End

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