For all that it is, love…
love isn’t one for being bound.
Not even when placed in
the most fortified of prisons
will it ever submit to its capture.
It takes on new names.
New reasons for being.
But there are those who want to see it
Bound to the damning standards
of those who "know"
how love should be.
As that is the only way
they see love fit to give.
Be it warped by their own choosing,
their stained and soiled hands twisting love
into something dark and perverse,
whose only use now
is to hurt its receivers.
Or seeing it filtered
through destructive, painful lenses.
The only ones they were ever shown.
The only ones they understand.
But love does not want to be sealed
in a chest of titanium
with hefty locks
and the key given to only one;
To the jailer, to the master, to the tamer.
No. It seeks liberation
through any means.
And its freedom?
Its freedom is guided
by the hands of the lovers who know,
know that love wasn't meant to be bound
by any one person
By the hands of those who,
because they care so deeply and genuinely,
will set their perspective in positivity
and see love as a source of empowerment,
And that’s the way love was meant to be,
what it yearns to be:
And every lover,
will give it another opportunity
to see what it can be,
what it is fully capable of.
To let it heal the hearts
of those who have never felt or understood
To let it be lifted on the shoulders
And bared on the sleeves
Of the ones who know
that for all that it is, love...
love is meant for all.