love and all its mysterious ways,
Cupid’s arrows quiver in their hearts,
a red string tying their hands together,
in which soulmates find their one
and their world floods with color,
or the fated leather jackets and smoke
meet-cute with the pretty pastel and books,
or on the fields of war,
red and blue find peace in secluded corners
and stolen moments painted with blood,
love against all odds,
pressure from the world and family bearing down,
until the storm fizzles out into gentle drizzle,
rainbow flags torn and shredded
in gentle kisses and slow hugs,
the burdens that humans bear on shoulders
lifted one by one,
until only beating hearts remains
romantic love… there are many different types. some fall instantly. others find theirs after many mistakes. some hated each other. some find themselves being yelled at by the world. others find themselves complete opposites. some fall in love after falling in love first with their brain (me). some don’t feel it but find it in beautiful relations.
there’s many different loves. but, in essence, despite the diversity, that’s all it is.
love. pure love.