Love isn’t a voluntary feeling.
It doesn’t allow any breaks or rest.
But love allows healing,
And sometimes brings out the best.
Love isn’t entirely happy,
For it is an insidious infection
That makes its hosts dreamy and sappy,
But it showers lovers with affection.
Love isn’t a simple game of talk and chase.
It is a war of teeth and nail
—an emotional and intense race
—but an unforgettable tale.
Love is a product of chemical reactions
In a brain overdosed on passion
And drunk on physical attractions
Which will soon dye lovers’ worlds ashen.
But all in all, love is a four letter word
With two vowels,
And two idiots.