Musings on Love

For some, love is a myth,

A figment of their imagination.

They cherish it with godlike awe,

Yelling, “God, when?” whenever possible.

For others, it is a dream,

A dreadful nightmare

With heartbreak songs in the background.

One they wish never to relive.

Some regard it in colour,

A beauty to behold

And a front for perfection.

It glitters, but it’s not gold.

Love is a masquerade.

Sometimes, fleeing is best.

But in child-like awe,

I gravitate towards it.

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