In the intricate dance of love he advances,
A paradox of courage and disguise.
The bravest heart, they say, is he,
Who wins a woman's love, yet remains free.

He weaves a web of tender words,
Captures her heart like a song of birds.
But deep down his intentions lie,
A kept secret, a silent goodbye.

He kisses her lips, tastes the sweet,
Yet love never commits to being complete.
His touch kindles flames, the fire of passion,
Yet he remains aloof, a wandering desire.

For he fears the bonds that love can give,
The vulnerability, the binding string.
So he dances on the edge of her soul,
A fickle lover, both hot and cold.

But oh, the irony of this brave facade,
For true courage lies in love without fault.
To risk everything, to jump without a net,
That, my friend, is the bravest bet.

So let us not praise the feeble-minded game,
Where love wins without love's flame.
Honor instead those who dare to dive,
To love fiercely, completely and truly alive.