Love is a tricky thing. It warms our hearts, feeds our souls, glorifies our sights, strengthens our efforts, widens our smiles, polishes our heartache, purifies our hope, eases our worries, and drains our insecurities. Love drenches the realities of this very world, though. It falsifies promises, manipulates the weak, breaks the strong, sinks the sturdy, love blinds our eyes from what is real, being an unfortunate generation full of lost bodies and mischevious acts.

Love is a colorful and vibrant rose, but love is the sorrow found in the petals that sink to the ground after breaking from the flower. Love results in a beautiful death, for the heart is fragile enough to believe such a glorious and promising lie. The heart is foolish. We are foolish. Love is foolish.