Love Letter to No One

Love is an irony
When joy comes in great sorrow
And sorrow come just when you feel great joy
How will I know if it is love that I feel?
How can I say you are the one I waited for?
My heart is deceitful,
Eager to fall and be bruised over and over again
My eyes see only what they want to perceive,
Not what is true and what is real
My mind knows not what is genuine, what is imaginary,
What is a dream, a hope, a wish, a memory, a fantasy
If it is a dream, I pray I would not wake up
If hope, that I may never stop trusting
If a wish, that I may not cease imagining
If a memory, that I may not forget
If a fantasy, that I may not be brought back
But love is as real as real goes
It is not a guessing game, not a children’s sport
But one involving the entirety and sacrifice
Where the victor claims the spoils, the loser becoming broken
Yet strangely complete
Can I ever cease feeling pain?
Can I ever be numb to what is around me?
No, I will not, as much as I would want to be
For I am human, but flesh and blood
Capable of hurting, capable of bleeding
I care not for games, with hearts involved
For when they fall, they will shatter, unless there is someone to catch them
Will there be someone to break the fall?
When I love, I know it would hurt,
Yet it would fill me with wonder
When I love, I know it would be to a scarred heart
- As is mine.