(Poetry/The Warehouse) The realites of love...

Again, I don't write in a style. I just write. What I feel.

The reality of love is
that love isn't perfect.
There is not magical set time. You don't get to script it. It just takes you.
It is not timed
Never that. It does its own thing.
It surprises you
Happens when you have given up.
Goes at its own pace
and its unexpected, wild and crazy
Dictates things that you wouldn't do.
Have you chasing things that you would not dream of following.
Change your morals, your pride, your soul to have it.
Stretch your wits end trying to get it and stretch the depths of your soul to keep it.
Make you put down your Kameelah's ass list and chop that shit down to a simple word.
Strikes in places and during times that you would think 'This can't be happening'.
And when it pleases and OH how it pleases you can't escape it.
It will take you and breaks you only to bring you up again.
It can soothe you, burn you and heal you all in one fell swoop.
It can be given in many different ways with no definition.
It is passion. It is words. It is action. Smoldering like embers on a campfire.
There is no 'one way to give it'.
No one set of circumstances that it can be given in.
That's our issue now.
Trying to box it in
Tell people how they can give it
when they can give it
and if and when they can give it
No. Love knows no boundaries like that.
Does it cure all?
Hell no.
But it when given right, it can help you get started on curing yourself.
I know some people that are capable of giving love like that.
I can only hope that you do too.