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,

Two consonants,

And two idiots.