Poem

Love

So what is this, love?
Wasn't love supposed to be a wonderful feeling? Something you like? Something that would make you feel warm on the insinde?
I don't feel any of these things now.
Maybe when you're in love then it feels warm.
Then it makes you feel good.
Makes you feel secure.
But only on the surface.
Under the surface, cold fear is lurking.
Like a beast with sharp fangs, only waiting to shred your heart into tiny, tiny pieces until it can't beat anymore.
And mostly, the beast is successful in shredding your heart.
Mostly the answer of your beloved is no, and with this answer which is like a key for the beast under the surface, it will come out and start it's horrible work.
But the beast isn't something evil or bad.
It's just trying to help, trying to destroy the pain so you won't just break or go insane.
So sometimes I ask myself: Why is it, that we fall in love anyway?
Why are we so keen about feeling the same pain over and over again?
It's a torture we go through all life long.
We give our heart away, only to get it back shattered in sharp pieces which are hurting us every time wo move, talk with our beloved one, and the other mostly doesn't even notice.
We trust the other, trust him or her to take good care of our heart, and that's what we get back.
A broken heart.
A million broken pieces.
A broken heart, which throws us again in an abyss of pain where we have to fight back the beast in us which is furious in pain.
But we have to keep on.
We don't want to, because it just hurts too much, we just want to curl in a corner and never want to come oit again.
But there's a problem.
The world is turning, it doesn't matter how much we've been hurt.
And we ourselves have to live on like we do every time, don't show anyone how much we've been hurt or that we just want somebody at our side who loves us for who we are.
Because then we would be weak.
And the "friends" who say "You'll eventually find someone who loves you":
Screw you! That doesn't help even a tiny bit!
It just feeds the beast in us.
Why not now? Why don't you like me? Why didn't you choose me? Why doesn't anybody want me?
All these questions in us, but nobody answers them.
And we aren't allowed to ask these questions, because all we want is somebody to love, somebody to take care of, somebody who loves us for what we are.
And we don't want to be weak.

Being friends with someone we loved is hard as well.
Every typed smile, every friendly word and every voice-message is like rattling at the knife in our heart, our shattered, broken heart.
The one that we have to build up again every time, and which gets shattered again and again.
So what are we fighting for?
We are fighting for the true love.
We are fighting for the one that loves us.
We are fighting for the one who cares for us.

We are liars.

It's nothing like that, and we all know that but don't want to believe it.
There is no such thing as love.
There is just pain.

Pain, behind a beautiful mask called love.