The Book Of Love

The Book Of Love

You didn’t write the book of love,

So don’t you dare dictate what it should be!

Your voice can’t claim what you haven’t felt,

You don’t know this wild, fierce mystery.

You stand there, acting like you own the rules,

But love isn’t for you to box and define.

It’s messy, it’s raw, it’s fire and pain,

It’s the scream in our hearts, a made up design.

Stop pretending you understand this dance.

You’re not the author of every heartbreak,

It’s not just sweet words or perfect lines,

It’s the rage, the passion, the risks we take.

With every clash of souls, it’s a storm we embrace,

Not a fairy tale ending, but a wild, fierce chase.

It's laughter amidst tears, a battle of wills,

It’s the scars that we wear, the rawness that thrills.

So back off with your judgments and your views,

You can't write our story; it’s ours to choose.

Love isn’t a script, it’s a battlefield,

And only the brave know the truth it can wield.

In this fire, we fight let the world take its stand,

For we’ll rise from the ashes, hand in hand.

With every heartbeat, we’ll forge our own way,

This isn’t your book; it’s our story,that WE write