Society tells us to pluck beautiful flowers
From their lush homes and give
Them to “special” someones
And we feel great about that
Yet, I don’t think that’s love.

We write poems with flowery words (and that’s okay)
Magically making a fleeting feeling seem as beautiful
As the galaxies
Yet, I don’t think that’s love.

We see ordinary humans as the alphas
And omegas in our lives
The air we breathe, the food we eat
And yet, I still don’t think that’s love.

That’s merely falling in love with the idea
of love.

Before Anyone Else
The one I’ll choose everyday
Soul mate
Forever and always
Hyperbolic names
We give very unrealistic expectations
And expect a person to die for us
And love us all the same
Throughout eons
Without realizing it doesn’t have to be that way

One does not need to be the morning star
The light of your life
Romeo or Juliet
To love you

You don’t have to be Samson nor Delilah
Helen of Troy
Mark Antony and Cleopatra
To be loved

Because it’s in the little things
The most ordinary things we find love -

Love is only possible
when you make it possible.