Love Isn’t Sponsored

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 I scroll past hearts that pulse and glow,

Valentine’s Day on full display.

Red roses chase me screen to screen,

Diamonds wink like they know my name.


I see a couple laugh on cue,

A perfect moment, framed just right.

You hand her flowers, bold and big,

A love story priced overnight.


My feed is dipped in sugar tones,

Chocolate smiles, entwined hands.

Every photo trimmed and tuned,

Affection shaped by careful plans.


I hear the ads call out to you:

“Show your love-just buy some more.”

Perfume promises forever,

Teddy bears guard every store.


But I keep thinking of the ones

Who don’t appear in polished squares.

The single friend. The quiet room.

The widowed heart you never share.


I feel the pressure too, you know-

To prove that love has chosen me.

To post a smile, to fake a glow,

Or let the silence speak for free.


I watch the brands count rising numbers,

While teaching us what love should be.

With trending tags and measured hearts,

I wonder what is left of “we.”


And yet I feel it somewhere else-

A softer place they cannot sell.

When you call just to ask if I’m okay,

When I stay and listen while you tell.


I find it in the things we don’t post:

A helping hand, a late-night talk.

When you see me without the filters,

And I don’t rush you when you stop.


This kind of love has no receipt,

No ribbon, shine, or scripted line.

It costs me time. It asks for care.

It asks that I really see you-and you see mine.


So celebrate if that’s your joy,

I won’t take that away from you.

Just don’t let them convince your heart

That love is something you must prove.


Because I know now, and I hope you do,

Love isn’t bought, displayed, or sold.

It lives in how I show up for you,

Quiet, steady, honest, whole.


Beyond the ads, beyond the noise,

When I choose you-and you choose me-

That’s where love finally feels real,

Not something staged, but something free.

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