Some say there’s many sorts of love. But I know there’s only one:
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The sort that sends you flying with the birds beside the sun.
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The sort that makes feel like you’ll never stop rising.
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The sort that’s so incredible that it’s almost surprising.
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The sort that makes you feel like you’re in love.

Some say there are many types of Love. But I know that that’s a lie:
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I’ve never known a type of love that didn’t make me cry.
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The only love I know is the sort that makes you burn inside
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The sort that releases itself in tears and makes me want to hide.
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The sort that makes you stop believing in Love.

Those who say only that only one love truly counts are right:
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The sort that makes you feel like the stars aren’t all that bright.
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The sort that makes you feel like dull, gloomy rain.
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The sort that drives you to the edge of madness. But lifts you up again.
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The sort of love that carries on through all the verses of this poem.
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The sort of love that never stops carrying on, through goodness, through sin.
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The sort of love that’s like a dream come true.
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The sort of love that I share with you.