You crave endless freedom, no ties, no chains,
Where feelings drift lightly, like clouds through the plains.
You chase fleeting moments, but passion’s in vain—
Where lies your true heart? Is it lost to the pain?
The doors are wide open, no locks, no key,
But what’s left of meaning in such liberty?
Desire unbridled, like sand through your hand,
Won’t warm you, won’t hold you, it slips like quicksand.
Love isn’t a game or a fleeting embrace,
It’s not found in the chaos of passion’s fast pace.
True love is for one, it’s a bond meant to stay,
Not scattered, not broken, but steadfast each day.
Open relations are hollow and cold,
A poor imitation of love’s tender hold.
For love isn’t freedom to wander and roam—
It’s finding one soul… and calling it home.
Open love
© Copyright: Денил Сайдулаев, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124121603701
Свидетельство о публикации №124121603701
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