More Of A Convenience

Time should never be the reason,
Why what is loved...
Needs more of it for someone to find.
If it's true and there to stay on one's mind.
Only to digress from expressing it to address,
When amongst friends who wine and dine.

Confused by what it is that fits,
To legitimize whenever the setting calls for it...
One can not admit exists,
Isn't love!
This is more of a convenience,
That seeks someone to permit its permanence.