Love

Some say that love is a melding of minds
A destined occurrence that takes and that binds
two fate-foretold lovers together in one.
It’s not.
Others will tell you that love is a war
And once you beat it, you’ll enter the corps
of hardened love veterans, clutching their prize
It’s not that either.
Still others will cry, “Love’s nothing at all!
Just sleep with someone, it’s simple and small
And if you can’t do that, well, what are you?”
I don’t even have to tell you how wrong they are.
So here’s what love is:
Love is your heart beginning to flutter
when looking at them, and having a stutter
when you talk.
Love is walking with them in the park
and looking at them, and feeling the spark
of something there, something intangible, yet everywhere.
Love is boops on the nose
and giving a rose
and realizing that they look cute in the snow.
Love is looking back, thirty, forty years later
and realizing that they look just as good
as they did all those years ago.
Love is
what you make of it, nothing more, nothing less.
Some build towers out of their love,
stretching high, high into the sky
ad infinitum.
Some instead build fortresses
with great thick walls and huge strong gates
and let nobody else inside.
Some others build nothing at all
instead preferring to frolic freely
in the vast plains of a carefree relationship.
Love is unknowable, unseeable, unquantifiable, untenable;
Love is terrible, brutal, horrible, awful;
Love is wonderful, amazing, brilliant, fantastical;
Love is everything, nothing, all, and none.
Love is Love, and that is it.