Love is messy, love is strange, Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it changes. It can be selfish, it can be bold, It can be warm, it can be cold.
It isn’t finding someone perfect or a heart that never breaks. It’s reaching out with shaking hands and giving more than you can take.
‘Cause love is not a finished story, Not a picture hanging on the wall. It’s picking up the broken pieces and choosing to rebuild it all.
Love also is letting go, holding on, it’s plunging, trying, it’s staying even when it’s wrong. It’s courage to be honest when the truth can leave a scar. Love is ruining a good painting to paint a better one.
Love can make you lose your balance, make you question what you know. You can give your heart completely and still not know where it will go.
But maybe that’s the beauty, what makes it real.
Not knowing how the story ends, knowing who you are, can be, show how you feel.
‘Cause perfect never was the promise and easy never meant enough. Sometimes you have to risk the picture just to find a deeper love.
So I’ll take the mess, I’ll face the fear, I’ll take the tears. I don’t need it perfect nor safe. I’d rather risk my heart than never turn the page.
Love also is..ruining, it’s choosing us over and over again. But love also is choosing self.