Two loves, one heart to love either one of them.
One who loved too much and one who loved too little.
One heart that is torn apart by mayhem.
But a heart that’s torn and patched, is brittle.
One who speaks of a broken past and no hope,
And one who speaks of a brighter future.
One who can only offer the known road,
And one who speaks of the unknown treasures.
But one might just drown in tears without love
And one may fly off alone, with or without.
Like it must beat, a heart must choose to love.
Or must it? Is it better off alone?
Can one make such a selfish choice in love?
Can one love, without being bound by love?
