Is love fair?
Does it even have to be?
So many kinds of love, yet it seems
For some of us, it remains eluded,
The not so obligatory love of a parent,
The subconsciously built love of a friend,
The passionate love of a lover,
Seemingly cast randomly upon our heads.
Men and women, walking without love,
Never knowing a parent, nor a best friend,
Absent the memory of lustful lips’ taste,
Solitude their home,
Self their love,
They are their family, friend and lover,
Building the stones of their future, alone.
Then who deserves love?
The lonely romantic submerged in lust?
The innocent child robbed of nurture?
The individual remained misunderstood?
Perhaps love’s meaning changes for us all,
Missing pieces for the incomplete?
Or an expansion for the completed?
Someone to catch you when you fall?
Or someone to walk strongly beside you?
I suppose it is whatever we make it,
So long as we are conquerors of love.