Love is like horses

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I knew a man whose home was decorated with the art of horses.
Watercolor equines
pencilled mares
rearing stallions
dark oil eyes
desert skies and knotted manes
an earthy passion, a full blooded sunset
windswept coats and a rumbling nicker from the chest of an untamed soul.
And when I asked him, did he ride?
He said no, I am just an admirer
And I thought, good on you
Because painted horses are like love
Romantic and free, majestic and wild
And real horses are also like love
Dangerous and expensive, vulnerable and savage
And when you say you like horses, and when you say you are in love
Which do you mean?
Because you don’t get to choose
Unless you decorate your home with the art of love
serendipitous stories
images of beauty
theology of soulmates
You can hang these ornaments within your house and worship them
Or you can step outside and ride that horse, and fall, and hurt, and gallop again
And there will be dirt under your nails
A bruise on your heart
Bright red love flowing from your veins
And you will understand that real horses are like love
And real love is like horses.