Love, such a precious thing.
Strong as my will to live yet as delicate as the brittle bones in my body.
It’s a deadly disease, much worse than any Black Death, much stronger than any synthetic drug.
It’s such a sneaky scent you don’t even see it sometimes, but in the end it’s infectious way crawl among the most unlikely of the human kind, even me whom I thought was unloveable.
It’s a poisonous drip of sugar coated lemon that can turn sour and poison all the happiness it once gave you. Its sweet taste will then linger for longer than it should, causing addiction to many.
It’s a war as brutal as once trusted nations and can be as painful as a stab in the back, betrayal.
Oh but its beauty lies far beyond lady Aphrodite…it’s the most beautiful thing mankind could ever experience that not even our most powerful tool, words, can describe it.
Oh how wonderful it is to be loved.
…
Love, it’s wicked ways burn my heart so that it crumbles into ash. I lay limp in pitch black as blood leaks from every pore of my skin.
It hurts to move, think, to feel anything anymore.
Why? Why did he break me like nothing more than a glass plate? Was I just an object to him?
Why did I let my worth lay in the hands of a man who never even shared how he felt with me like I did to him. Why was I so stupid, foolishly blinded by the hands of love?
Love, the blazing fire capable of burning one’s soul, leaving vulnerable cracks in the mind that just a single gust of wind shall break open to reveal…death, death by your own hands, suicide.
Why am I alive if I have no purpose? What’s the purpose of life if I cannot even be loved by a single man.
I guess in the end, I really am unloveable, untouched and brittle to the bone. I do not deserve love.
Oh dear heart, why do you ache so?
Why does your soul feel heavy and low?
Is it because the one you love
Doesn't share with you what he's thinking of?
He speaks of love, but keeps you at bay
Doesn't open up, what can you say?
Your emotions run deep, sadness all around
An emptiness within, a love lost and unfound
Oh how it hurts to love and not be loved in return
To yearn for connection, for intimacy to burn
But alas, it seems he's not ready to share
To open up, to show you that he cares
Don't let his silence dull your shine
Don't let his lack of love define
You are worthy, you are strong
And one day, your heart will sing its song
Though now it hurts, hold on to hope and faith
Believe that love will come at the perfect pace
Until then, take care of your heart and soul
…
As time goes on my wounds left by the slashes of cruel love heal into scars, marks of shame? Hurt? Vulnerability? Worthlessness?
No.
They turn into beautiful symbols of bravery, strength, purity and true emotions. Those marks show how much you care and that you gave a damn to let yourself heal. Those marks will forever be at part of you, but do not stress. Your marks are not ugly or shamefully, they are beautiful, just like your heart. They show your strength and you should carry them with pride. They show that you’re alive and that even though love may be tough, you are tougher.
Do not hate the man for what he has done to you. Thank him, thank him for the valuable experience that has now made you stronger, thank him for the memories. Do not let hatred burn through your precious heart, else it will reopen your wounds and you would surely die. Thank him and move on.
For loving is human.
We are all people.