Love is strange. Love is stupid. Love is foolish, reckless and beautiful. Sometimes you want to throw her in a wall, stomp on her and scream, and sometimes you want to hug her, kiss her and always be surronded by her.
Love can be different, depending on the circumstances. She can be gorgeous in shades of pink and blush with lace and tulle. Dreamful, with butterflies in your stomach and rose tinted cheeks. She can also be ruthless, dressed in the darkest shades of red, tearing you apart inside out.
Love doesn't have to be romantic. She can come in pastel shades with hugs, doodles on hands with expensive ink and worn out books. She can be bright colours and ripped jeans and terrible poetry.
Love is dangerous. She makes you travel across the world, she makes you sacrifice everything, she can make you lose yourself, find yourself. She can end you, and she can renew you. She can treat you like a queen one day, and a slave the next.
She can have you dance around with an angel in white, and she can have you dressed in black with a single red rose tucked behind your ear.
Do not trust love, for she is insane. She makes you feel a hundred different things at once and nothing. She rips you apart, even though you might never feel it.
Do not trust, but accept. Accept her and embrace the pain, the long nights and the broken glass. It is all worth it in the end.
Love is a game, play it right and you will find yourself rewarded. If you play it wrong you'll be dancing with death every night.
So, what is Love?