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I.
love for me has been longing — a feverish prayer whispered on bruised knees, a. wish made on a billion stars, hands outstretched blindly, holding my breath and recklessly hoping, waiting endlessly, — love for me has been a dream.
II.
love for me has been foreign — a deep feeling that something unknown was missing, a fruitless search extended beyond the seven lands and seas, a mere silhouette in place of a nostalgic memory, it was weeping without reason , it was decaying and wanting — Love for me has been a void, a vanishing absence.
III.
Love for me has been agony — a stab in the back aimed true to the heart, death and darkness holding me attentively while i bleed, while i choke on the sheer vastness of yearning, banished and moonlit lonely — love for me has been a noose of thorns around my neck, the most violent form of grief.
