In shadows cast, where love's illusion weaves,
A labyrinth of tangled hearts, deceived,
Beware the love that bears no wounds,
It is but a fleeting dream, a shallow bend.


For in the wilderness of desires, we roam,
Where wild roses hide their thorns in fragrant foam,
It's not love if it doesn't hurt, they say,
A riddle in passion's intricate display.


Like a tempest in a vessel, fierce and wild,
In fragile porcelain hearts, storms of love compiled,
The tempest's fury leaves its mark, we find,
In every shattered piece, a tale defined.


A wildfire, fierce and uncontained,
A burning force through every heart, ingrained,
It scorches, sears, and leaves its scars, it's true,
But in the embers, love's essence shines through.


It's like a siren's call upon the sea,
A melody that beckons you and me,
Yet in the depths, a treacherous abyss,
Where love's enchantment grants no sweet amiss.


Or like a riddle wrapped in mystery's cloak,
A puzzle that no mortal can provoke,
In solving love's enigma, we're beguiled,
And in the questions, passion's truth, compiled.


So, it's not love if it doesn't sting and burn,
For in the pain, profound lessons we discern,
In love's tumultuous sea, we find our worth,
A treasure chest of trials, love gives birth.


But though it hurts, this love we can't deny,
Its contradictions make us laugh and cry,
In this enigma, our hearts, they find their song,
For love that hurts, in truth, is love lifelong, or at least so they say.
© Dylan_Tom