With all my poems about love, one would think I’m in it, ‘ in love’.
What does that even mean
And when he said I was lost in love, I bet he thought I had lived it.
I bet he thought I knew her, like I had met her once upon a dream.
It’s funny how you could crave for something so deep and yet it seems farther from reach.
So I admit, love eludes me, she has a way of hiding in the darkest corners and taking the next turns up to the grimness alleys leading to places I would never dare thread.
Love taunts me, she stays long enough for me to see the colour of her scarf as it wisked away attesting to her once presence.
Love drugs me, she gives me just enough to make me addicted leaving me with withdrawal symptoms. She poisons me with notions of sweet empty nothings, calls my name with lips dripping with honey then turns into a deadly viper.
Love numbs me, she let’s me see the sniper and tricks me to believing it’s cupid come to give me what I crave.
Love scares me with the thought of vulnerability and reckless abandon ; me? little me? no.
Yet when I’m on the floor bleeding, taking in my supposed last breathe I’d still crave her, I would still long for a love deeper than an ocean, higher than the highest mountain and if I fall from her, having known what she gives, I’d climb back up, no matter how long it takes, no matter how hard it may be. I will choose love.