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To be loved is

to be worth the inconvenience

And to love is to adjust—

a little every single time

There is beauty

in the quiet art of compromise

In sleeping late just to talk more,

or in saving pennies for something shared

In the letting down of walls,

in allowing yourself to fall

The unsaid sacrifice

all to see your smile

Love is worth

the stretch, the strain, the swell

It becomes more than who we are,

a step beyond ourselves

because love is not just found in peace,

but the chaos we choose

and so, we stay.