Love is a strange thing
Which I have yet to understand.
Who can help me to fathom
What it is that is implied
When I hear
Those dreaded three words
Being uttered
From the deceitful lips of a man...
I
Love
You
What
is Love?
What
is it to be
IN Love?
Where
is Love?
My search for the answer
Seems to be in vain
As I pour what broken emotions I have
Into empty vessels
That have not the ability
To reciprocate
Or even appreciate
My sacrifice.
My heart grows weary
And numb
As my quest for this phenomenon
Has proven itself to be a HOLLOW effort.
My soul
Does not know
The feeling of pain
Nor will it consent to
The indwelling of sorrow.
My heart
is
shattered
And my soul
is
dead
Expressionless
I have ingeniously
Built an impenetrable fortress
To prevent the entry
Of those who profess their Love.
I am immune to their sugarcoated words
And adjectival phrases
Repetitions of Love
With empty promises.
Confessions of emotions
And dreams of
Once Upon a Time
And
Happily Ever After
Are no longer
Allowed to plague my mind
Or harass my sleep
As I consider
What could be
No prince can break the curse
Of bitterness
That hovers over this beauty.
The difference between
Loving
And being IN Love
Is far beyond me
Both wonders
Are far beyond my reach.
Within me is no intention
To extend my arm
And embrace
Such coveted sentiments
My endeavour
Is to protect
What little I have left.
