I've worn those
scars of love
so many times,
when all I wanted
was to share the stars above,
as we watched time slowly unwind.
I wanted us to look into each other’s
minds and find the pieces that fit.
The stars that aligned.
I've fell in love so often
with those that could
never love me back.
They say they do,
but only when said in defence.
A "but I love you" screamed
in angry attack is not the same
as the delicate shared
soft whispered words,
of a loving embrace.
And it's that kind
of "I love you"
I've always chased..
But I think, it's easier this way.
A heart merely bruised is much
quicker to heal than one shattered
into a million pieces,
laying under trampled feet.
A fractured splinter
of what could have been,
is much easier to take,
than a dagger piercing the real thing.
I've loved, I've lost,
I've hurt and felt the loss,
like a bereavement of the heart.
It sits, mourning, beats barely forming,
before welling up and blubbering,
and would I do it all again.
In a heartbeat. If that heart
isn't ruined from the cracks
it has formed right through.
If love knocked on my door,
I'd welcome her with arms wide open.
I'd give everything.
I am but a hopeless romantic.
It is sometimes hopelessly tragic,
that I can't read the signs through the static.
Thanks for reading
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