Love is a law
Love is a hazard,
Like a Thursday night.
Busy, uncomfortable, stuck in an endless loop, waiting for it to be over.
Love is like an antique box, stored in an attic; valuable yet covered in dust.
Love looks like rotten wood with cracks between it.
Or perhaps, it is a lot like a fungus that you can't get rid of; hidden and incurable.
Love is growing on me like a moss.
It's a disaster,
A law.
But, for once.
For once, can love look like a Sunday morning; filled with warmth, calmness and motionless?
Can love feel like a hot coffee served on a winter night?
Or just as fresh as a raindrop on a leaf.
Or maybe just like a rich silk dress taken well care of?
Un-touched and un-torn?
For once can love look like the Methuselah tree filled with wisdom and not a complicated system?
Kazi Meheru Tasfia reads, writes, and draws in her spare time.
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