Love is a strange thing.
It grabs a hold of you, pulls.
It chokes you until breath itself won't come.
Love can kill you, love can set you free.
Love is innocent.
Love is naive.
Love is everything that is beautiful.
Love keeps you alive, even if you would rather give up.
Love can hold you up when nothing else will, can keep you afloat when all that's left to do is drown.
Love is perfect, though incredibly flawed.
Love can make you feel so sure, when in reality you're spiraling out of control.
Love can break you in half, leave you bleeding while you're asking to die.
Love is damaging.
Love can rip your beating heart from your chest.
Love is everything you need, though something you rarely achieve.
The lucky few who find their perfect love hold on so tightly it has no possible hope of flying away.
The wings, once strong, wither away and die.
They tie is down, keep the ropes pulled tight.
Always too afraid to cut the strings, let it soar.
Love is like glass.
One wrong move and the whole thing will crack,
break,
shatter,
and you lose everything.
