this thing called
love
is a dangerous thing. a risk.
a walk
on a tight rope,
with nothing but air
ten thousand feet below.
it's work,
it's a chore, it's exhausting
and stressful.
anxiety ridden,
and yet,
we seek it so.
but
maybe that's not real love
at all.
maybe love is something
different.
it's freedom
to be who you are,
no eggshells on the floor,
no sense
of doom, or lack of trust.
no pain.
no secrets.
maybe love is easy.
maybe love is kind
and gentle.
relaxing. transparent.
maybe love is joy
when two souls embrace
each other
without fear.
maybe love is the best thing
to ever happen to you.
i want that love to appear.
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