there’s nothing safe about love.
it can be a net waiting to catch you,
or a golden line leading you forward,
or chains pulling you beneath the waves.
it changes and shifts.
it can be a key made for your heart
just as easily as it can be a knife
crafted to fit between your ribs.
But love doesn’t want to hurt you.
it never did.
people are less fluid than love.
they are either poison or sunshine,
and they bleed into love,
raising it like a pet, for better or worse.
when love bites,
it’s always because someone kicked it.
when love heals,
it’s always because someone tended it.
love has never saved me,
but there’s always been a hand ready to pull me from the water.