Stop. Think. Repeat

Because cautiousness is a virtue.

Beware of charm. There is a smile that comes before a killing, and the executioner knows how to be courteous too.

Beware of easy things, soft beds and overeager strangers.

Beware of green fields. Snakes that lie in wait don’t advertise themselves.

Beware of grand gestures and colourful futures painted on water-stained walls.

Be wary of promises that beckon furiously, asking you to hinge your life on them.

Beware of falling too quickly, head over heels over head without sense toward a landing you know nothing of: if it is soft, hard or even there at all.

Beware of the sweet-tongued ones who take love and leave hollow shells behind, the ones who tell you they are the best you will ever find.

Beware of saying yes when you do not know the cost of consent: what it will rip out of your hands, if you will be left with anything.

Beware of the excitement, the butterflies, the fireworks and the stars twinkling in their eyes. Thrills fade and lights go out.

And when darkness falls, beware of fireflies: small comforts that are gone in the morning, beacons of false hope as transient as a yawn.

Beware of the busyness of evanescent affection, so easily mistaken for love in its effusiveness. Zeal is not commitment, the bubbles are not the drink.

Beware of wolves who have learned to eat grass and bleat like sheep. Omnivores are just carnivores with eclectic taste.

Beware of letters, like the invisible 'i' in the knockoff of love the world peddles. Love isn’t selfish.

Beware of the hurry, the rush, the artificial urgency that ends with a broken heart. Or worse, a broken neck.

Beware of fighting for a cause that isn’t yours. There will be no posthumous medals. No one will mourn your demise. You will not be missed.

If it leaves you empty, it’s not love.

If it makes you bleed, it’s not love.

If it breaks you and never fixes you, it’s the devil.