If you have never know the hardship and the pain of real love it is easy to romanticize about it. It is easy to look at that one over there with a heart that is full of desire and passion and hope. To let passion be all there is. The feeling where the desire seems to smother you to the point of death.

But real love is death
It is allowing a part of you to die for someone else
Sometimes against your own will
Sometimes against your own better judgement
But it's about love
Not about you anymore

It is consuming
It is pain
It isn't always worth it

Ah to be back in the day when it was all about
Lust
Passion
Desire
the physical
and nothing more

But no, I am no longer an innocent
I am a lover
so I must suffer