They say,
Love is love.
But let’s be real—
Love is the ocean,
Not the wave you see crashing on the shore.
It’s not a label we wear,
Not a box we check.
It’s a spectrum,
A wildfire,
An ancient story retold in a thousand new voices.

They say,
Love is simple.
But we know it’s anything but.
Love is messy, tangled, complicated,
The crumpled note passed in secret,
The loud kiss shared in protest.
It’s the nights we cry alone,
The mornings we wake up whole.
Love is how we break apart
And stitch ourselves back together.

They want love to fit their rules,
Their narrow frames,
But love doesn’t ask for permission.
Love is the crack of dawn across a bruised sky,
The laughter of friends who know the weight of your tears,
The hand that doesn’t let go
When the world says it should.

Love isn’t just happy-ever-after.
It’s the struggle, the fight, the breathless dance.
It’s the friend who calls just to check in,
The lover who waits, patient as the moon,
The family we build from broken pieces—
A mosaic of hope,
Cut glass held together by light.

They say,
Love is love,
As if it’s all the same.
But we know—love is more.
It’s the whisper, I see you.
The shout, I’m here.
It’s the risk we take,
Not because it’s easy,
But because it’s worth it.

Love is a revolution,
A rebellion against silence,
Against the shoulds and should nots.
Love is the protest song we sing together,
The anthem of the brave,
The echo of a promise made
In every glance, every touch, every breath.

So when they tell you,
Love is just love,
Look them in the eye and say:
No—
Love is deeper,
Wider,
Higher.
Love is more.