To love is to court a rocky road,

A path which can be both gentle and harsh.

At first it winds peacefully,

All smooth, polished stone which caresses the bare foot that touches it.

It is, of course, a trap,

To lure the unwary traveler to trust,

To bare all,

To make themselves vulnerable.

For after all, the sharpest stones lay around the most peaceful corners,

Waiting for the unwary,

The fools in love who have let their guard slip away.

Love, the most cleverly crafted lie,

Which lures its prey to false security,

Then strikes them down without mercy.

Drags them into the merciless cycle of love and loss,

love and loss,

love and loss,

And all over and over again.

But not I, say we all,

I shall be different, my love is true, and shall never harm me.

And so that clever lie,

That vile lie,

Strikes down all when their time comes.