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Love Cannot Be Written into a Hallmark Card

July 9, 2013
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Love is not a summer’s dream.

Love cushions your fall and endures your callousness;
Love looks into you and tells you when it is alright to be wrong;
Love makes the impossible happens with imagination;
Love makes no excuses; it respects you even when you are an ass;
Love asks not to possess but to have a small peep inside;
Love obsesses not, nor engages in jealous possession;
Love enjoys the communion of kindred spirits;
Love does not deny that you may not be loved as deeply as you desire;
Love feeds not the ego, nor is it arrogant strutting when you think you’ve come out first in the battle of love;
Love knows when it’s time to let go, to lather and rinse in repeat until you have accepted that fact;
Love forgives even as the memory comes and goes until the final exhalation;
Love tells the truth, and even if it means the beginning of an end;
Love awes by radiating intensity;
Love strives to apprehend the intention of destiny led by the fraternal twins of burden and beauty;
Love enjoys beauty in the mundane and the quotidian;
Love understands emotions are transient, and that hatred is stressful;
Love calls it quits and does not force the other into a chasm;
Love finds not a muse but a genuine voice and deep intuition;
Love does not posture;
Love is neither romantic nor a happily ever after;

Love is a work in progress: you can never know if you have loved until you are done loving.

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