They say love is divine,
Sacred as a flower from heaven,
Innocent as a newborns toothless grin,
Never-ending as the vast blues.
I beg to differ.
Is it so?
Is love as selfless as they say?
Doesn’t take interest from the heart?
Ask the soul to forget what it’s made of?
Is love as unending as they say?
Would you walk beside me on the shores,
And not wonder for once, where it ends?
Playful as a puppet dance,
Colourful like a box of crayons,
Does it not contain shades of grey?
Never wakes you up in the middle of the night
Begs you to cry your way?
Does it really not leave a scar,
Doesn’t remind you of me years later?
Love, they say.