Love Shouldn't Hurt

In the rarefied realm of affection's gentle breeze, Where tender touch and warmth should bring ease, Love's purported sanctuary often conceals, A labyrinthine abyss of painful reveals. The paradox of passion's pyre, that should ignite, Instead reduces souls to smoldering night, The cruel irony of hearts that beat as one, Now shattered, like fragile vessels, undone. The euphoric highs, the crushing lows, A rollercoaster of emotions, as love's woes, The supplications, the pleas, the desperate cries, Fall on deaf ears, as hearts, like autumn leaves, dry. The weight of expectation, a crushing load, The burden of possession, a soul's heavy toll, The suffocating grip of jealousy's cold grasp, The agonizing pangs of love's misplaced clasp. Oh, love, thou shouldst be a haven, not a hell, A sanctuary, not a prison to dwell, A garden of roses, not a bed of thorns, A gentle brook, not a raging, tempest-torn. Yet, still we seek, amidst the hurt and pain, The elusive dream, the love that will remain, The phoenix rising, from ashes of heartbreak, The resilient spirit, that will not forsake. For love, in its essence, is pure and kind, A selfless gift, that seeks to leave behind, The scars of yesterday, the fears of tmr.