They dressed the love carefully,
Even though she was shining with her torn clothes.
They took all the colors of life just to make her dress,
Even though she looked beautiful naked.
Why don’t they let her naked as she is?
Why should people put all those ripped clothes on her?
Just to cover her wounds and footprints of the past,
To cover her bruises….
But these are not what diminishes her beauty.
Is our imaginary and illusionary magic dress that gives her a fake beauty.
Love is not an endless happiness.
Love is pain with pieces of joyful complications.
Love is a sweet pain that gives our life meaning.