You love the idea of love. You are in love with a concept rather than your lovers. It works well for you. It’s called being practical, you tell me between puffs of smoke, falling for concepts and things but not people.
People leave and you learnt that in childhood. You saw your father leave, then your mother. The only child now trapped in the shadows. You went through life being invisible so now you can’t stand the thought of being seen, cradling your sorrow and anger, harbouring resentment, never being able to find a let out. How could you though? Nobody taught you that kindness is rewarding and love is unconditional.
So you dance your way into other people's heart, put a price on their love.
It's okay, you can afford it but you can never value it.
That's the price you pay, losing the one you love, watch them slip through your fingers but you know it.
You've always known it because you know the ending.
You wrote the story that way.
YOU ARE READING
The Blooms Of My Garden
Poetry'The Blooms Of My Garden' is divided into 6 parts. Every part deals with one theme and various emotions that are associated with it and how the poet deals with it. 1. Love 2. Lust 3. Heartbreak and Closure 4. Self-doubt and self-love, healing and b...
