Love Is Never Easy
Love: good, warmth, enveloping as the midnight sky full of stars, a sight to take your breath away.
…One definition, but how many others?
Love, to others, is nothing but hate, lies, broken promises, and a deadly disease.
And sometimes, it's both at the same time: A deadly disease that's worth fighting for.
It is not reassuring enough to tell someone that love is beautiful, and worth every tear drop you've shed before.
They don't tell you that love will cause you pain, anger, and damage that creates long and agonizing scars.
The love that hope brings, the anger it creates, we are all familiar with its like and demeanor.
Currently now, love is the most beautiful thing in the world, like a purple sunset.
But I already know that one day, its shining, bright light will end, and I won't be able to be led through the dark tunnel I've been working through for days.
Once the light fades, the darkness settles in, and all hope is lost,
Is it a coincidence that sometimes, love just pops up again incidentally?
What about the times when it decides to hide itself, and some can't take the journey on any longer?
Why can't love come faster, before that one moment, you decide to let the knife strike you, and your life has ended?
Some write love poems, songs, and even movies, but I'll never be able to truly understand them;
Nor appreciate them.
It is because of love that many have died, bore the scars they've created, and damaged people eternally.
It is because of love that some vow to live on, while others drown in their non-consistent sorrows.
Love, forever undefined, even by whatever anyone says.
Love, an ever-ending confusion that has plagued and enslaved the human race.