Love: a bouts rimes

In the midst of this love The thing you’d hate to catch The feelings that you thwart Descending like a dove Precious, it will snatch The comment you retort The heart, like a court Cases that will shove Love is like a port That doesn’t have a latch For wounds there is no patch It scars like a wart The words that are above May be the frightening sort As if you’ll have a match For a man who laughs then snorts