Love doesn’t arrive gently.
It kicks the door in,
lights a candle,
and whispers,
lights a candle,
and whispers,
“This time will be different.”
And for a while, it is.
You don’t fall in love.
You vanish into it.
You vanish into it.
Like smoke.
Like a song.
Like you never even existed before this ache arrived.
Like a song.
Like you never even existed before this ache arrived.
At first, it’s electric.
You’re not falling, you’re rising.
Like your soul just leaned across a crowded room and said,
Like your soul just leaned across a crowded room and said,
“Oh… There you are.”
It feels like the miracle they promised you.
The one that might finally make all the other aches make sense.
The one that might finally make all the other aches make sense.
And then?
Then love gets real.
The high gets heavy.
The truth starts leaking in.
The truth starts leaking in.
And you realise…
You didn’t fall for a soulmate.
You fell for someone with their own damage.
Their own ghosts.
Their own forgotten parts still screaming in the dark.
You fell for someone with their own damage.
Their own ghosts.
Their own forgotten parts still screaming in the dark.
And love?
Love doesn’t care about your potential.
It doesn’t want your vision board.
It doesn’t care about your tantric weekend.
It’s not here for your curated vulnerability.
It doesn’t want your vision board.
It doesn’t care about your tantric weekend.
It’s not here for your curated vulnerability.
It wants you.
Unguarded.
Flawed.
Still bleeding from the last goodbye.
Flawed.
Still bleeding from the last goodbye.
Love isn’t here to complete you.
It’s here to undo you.
It’s here to undo you.
Some days, it’s the holy grail.
Other days, it’s ash and silence.
Other days, it’s ash and silence.
A cold war in the kitchen.
Two toothbrushes. One battlefield.
Two toothbrushes. One battlefield.
And yet… you stay.
Not because it’s easy.
But because something in you knows:
But because something in you knows:
This is the work.
This is where the bones of you meet the bones of another,
and you both decide to build something sacred
from the rubble you dragged in.
and you both decide to build something sacred
from the rubble you dragged in.
Real love’s not perfect.
It’s not always kind.
It’s not always safe.
It’s not always kind.
It’s not always safe.
But it’s honest.
And sometimes,
that’s the holiest thing of all.
that’s the holiest thing of all.
Love will wreck you.
Love will ruin you.
Love will ruin you.
And if you’re lucky,
it’ll rebuild you too.
it’ll rebuild you too.
If you let it.
If you don’t bail when it gets inconvenient.
If you stop treating it like a reward,
and start treating it like a fire that forges you
into something softer.
Wilder.
Truer.
If you don’t bail when it gets inconvenient.
If you stop treating it like a reward,
and start treating it like a fire that forges you
into something softer.
Wilder.
Truer.
You don’t survive love.
You surrender to it.
You surrender to it.
And pray it builds something sacred
from your wreckage.
from your wreckage.
We don’t leave footprints.
We leave scars that shimmer when the light hits just right.
We leave scars that shimmer when the light hits just right.
And echoes in the hearts of those
who were lucky enough to be loved
by the real, unfiltered you.
who were lucky enough to be loved
by the real, unfiltered you.
❤️🔥
Love makes us.
Love breaks us.
Love breaks us.
And if we’re lucky,
Love takes us home.
Love takes us home.
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