How much would you pay for bottled love?
Hanging up on a market stall
like fairy lights, all twinkling away
in different colours.
Bright pink for that first crush, that first taste of romance.
Steady indigo for familial love, overriding all those arguments that ended in slammed doors and broken crockery.
Lush, meadow green for those best friends who have stood by you for years
and will do for many more,
possibly because they now know you too well for you to let them escape.
How about that deep crimson
for a person you wish to wake up to every day, forever?
The vendor rattles them all enthusiastically as you walk by,
making them dance about,
shouting about special offers for previous clients,
two for the price of one,
a complete returns policy if things don’t work out.
She dangles a handful of free samples in your face
and you can’t help but get caught up in the wonderful scent
of love
that threatens to stitch up all those wounds
forming your heart.
It’s tempting.
It is.
But it’s fake.
Manufactured for the vulnerable,
and I know you aren’t the type to buy into it.
Treeshallow Musings 