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 owners.

New lives.

New limits.

New faces.

New functions.

New reasons for being.

 

But there are those who want to see it

Hurt.

Restrained.

Broken.

Strangled.

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

or rule

or thought.

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,

not emprisonment.

 

And that’s the way love was meant to be,

what it yearns to be:

Free,

bright,

and solacing.

And every lover,

every generation,

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

meaningful love.

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.