To Whom It May Concern

Have You Ever Been In Love

"Have you ever been in love?"
She whispered.
Yes,
I thought.
Way back when my heart was still whole.
When my soul was not bruised.
I had loved so strongly,
So fiercely,
So bravely.
I held my love in the dangerous chasms of my heart.
She occupied every inch of my being.
Of my thoughts.
I felt more her than me,
As if she was more a part of me than I was in my own body.
I worshipped her.
Saw her as a goddess adorned in heavenly light.
And untouchable eternal glow of astonishing.
And I loved her.
I loved her as my body grew cold.
As my mind grew clouded.
As my soul grew old.
As my heart withered and frayed away.
Loving her burned.
Like someone lit a match that set the world on fire.
And I felt the pain of everything.
Loving her was torture.
It was stabbing my soul with a rusty dagger every I was reminded of how unobtainable she was.
But I was naive.
Through all of the pain I felt as though I was what was needed to sway her mind.
But through all of the bruises and broken bones and tears and heartache.
She did not love me.
She would not love me.
She will never love me.
For she did not love.
But I did.
Oh did I love.
I loved with a ferocity that could slay demons.
I loved much more than one should.
I spent all my love on one person,
who did not love me back.
So I don't have enough to love myself.
So when she whispered,
"Have you ever been in love?"
My answer will always be
"No."