Love,
Four letters that are just waiting for the chance to break you apart.
But, maybe you needed to be torn for once.
Sometimes, that’s all we need,
Is a little cut, tear, bruise, scrape,
Anything to show that we’ve been there,
Made this mistake, or that mistake,
And that we’ve learned.

Some are scared of this,
They run,
In fear of letting their untouched skin,
Get rough.
They aren’t willing to learn the lessons,
That we all should learn,
So that maybe next time, we won’t be cut as deep as the time before.

Then there are the ones of us, who thrive off of love,
The ones who run towards it, arms spread wide, ready for the embrace.
We don’t mind the pain,
We know every scar is another lesson learned.
Some call us stupid,
I say, we’re smart.


We’ll be more experienced in the long run,
Looking back and knowing we had no clue what we were doing,
Just knowing that there was no such thing as a wrong move.
And in the end, we come out strong, scarred, happy,
And we have the best stories that you’d never hear any other way.