Bad Stuff: The Tarnish on Gold

Her laugh broke like sunlight through clouds
Yet I called her pride a flaw.
His hands, gentle as dawn, mapped my scars
Yet I named his ambition greed.

Society whispered: wrong background, different god
(As if love needs proper paperwork)
Parents warned: no future there
(As if futures aren't built by stubborn hearts)

I surrendered to practical whispers,
Let distance grow between us like weeds.
Now memory's knife cuts deeper with time -
How easily I labeled love's shine as tarnish,
How foolishly I mistook gold for brass.

Yes, I still love them.
In that parallel life where courage won,
We're dancing, still.