cognition

literally wrote this at 4a.m. in a whirl of thoughts

to love is to throw away yourself;

to trust every fragile quality

and every acquired strength

in the hands of one who causes a momentary influx of your heart,

or an ephemeral upturn of your lips

so that they dictate your smile,

your happiness,

your sense of self-worth

and nothing can be said on your part,

for you've given them the control

and your fear of acknowledging the presence of damage

refrains you from repairing it

yet you still love,

you love with every fiber of your being

you love with all that remains of the person they gorged

but when that isn't enough,

when the adrenaline rushing through the wires to your heart begins to abate,

and your lips grow heavy and quivered with the mourning of what was-

and you begin to realise that

love is nothing more than a distraction from pain and loneliness,

post-poning it for a later date-

you cannot untangle the emotions wrapped around their fingers,

nor erase the memories etched inside your bones

so love yourself

so nobody else has to

be your own smile,

your own happiness

your own sense of self-worth

for love is valueless;

a concept for the lonely

and an endeavour for the asinine