Love Is Not for Sale

They told me love was a ring,
A thing you could buy,
A promise wrapped in paper,
With a bow made of lies.

They said love was roses
—and deadlines.
A monthly subscription
With fine print in the margins of your lifeline.

But I saw through the showroom,
Through the flowers and flair,
I saw love sitting silent,
In the corner—bare.

Not broken, not bruised—
Just... misused.
Misnamed and misframed
By fools chasing muse.

Love is not a handshake,
Not a headboard,
Not a hashtag.
It’s not the echo of “mine”
In a world gone mad.

Love is a fire that warms without burning.
It’s Spirit embodied—
A truth still yearning
To live outside of contracts and code,
To flow in the open
—not corralled on a road.

Love is not for sale.
It doesn’t wear price tags,
Doesn’t bend under bids,
Doesn’t perform for claps
Or hide what it did.

Love is presence.
It’s peace in a storm.
It’s choosing the ugly,
Still calling it form.

It is the immaterial made flesh—
But never flesh-bound.
It lifts without leverage,
It speaks without sound.

So if you come looking for love,
Bring your whole soul.
Not your wallet.
Not your role.

Come honest.
Come undone.
And when Love answers—
Don’t run.

Location: Dallas, TX, USA

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