NOXIOUS LOVE

I keep running after love; neglecting to pause and breathe. Someone said to let love come to me; to be patient. Being patient is the hardest thing in world to do when love is consistently passing me by only to stop and deliver itself to my neighbor. My patience has run out like the breath that I was holding for love. I fail to comprehend the reason why I severely desire what does not want me. I fight to merely touch, love and I fail. Then I find myself battered and wounded; unable to stand with the scars that love has left in my heart. For some reason I have this addiction to her. She beats me down and leaves me for dead, but somehow I manage to rise back to my feet. I heal, and time and time again I attempt to give love a resting place within my heart. I’ve come to realize that I am the root of my own inflictions. Love won’t stop hating me and I, like a dope, keep trying to love her. This is the idiot that love has made of me. Maybe I am not insane enough to continue to withstand the hell that love sends me through. I don’t see the logic in that insanity because love should feel good. It should be perfect. It should mesh well with my heart like Sunday dinners and close knit families. I should certainly get back what my heart distributes, but it is merely a dart board for love. I send my affection and she throws sharp and pointy aspects of pain, consecutively, at my heart. I don’t flinch. I don’t move. I stand there dumbfounded and I wonder, “How in hell am I receiving this?” I think I’ve done all that I can do to satisfy love, but the bitch is so difficult. So my heart is as cold as the love that comes to me. It is as hard as the surfaces that my heart has shattered upon thousands of times before. Love doesn’t want me, and I wish death up on it. I tried. I did everything in my will to make my heart a peaceful and cozy home for her to lay her head, but she hates me. For that very reason, I hate her. Fuck love!

Copyright ©2010 Lorenzo Wesley, Jr.