heartlessly

I wish I could at least be angry at you. I tried to be. My effort was cut short by your cowardice and so I’m left scattering my choked words to the seven winds … I can’t even be upset with you because you don’t know what love is, and so you don’t know how to love. You don’t even know the scope of your loss as you can’t recognise love even when it’s looking you in the eye, staring into your soul, the very soul you hide away from yourself and the world.

I am made of love, I breathe it and give it freely, effortlessly. The palette of feelings at my disposal is a wide as the sky, it stretches over the rainbow. You remain a rock against all that I give you. You look at me as if I was a body, a pretty body that’s true, but only that. You think I’m crazy because I feel deeply and fearlessly, because I let myself feel love even when it hurts.

I try to make myself so very small so that you and your stupid heart of stone can grasp me. But I’m too transient, I’m made of spirit and tears and songs of longing lovers, so you cannot seize me. I’m like a balloon that got away from your hand’s grip. You choose to hate me instead, lest you feel even just an ounce of regret.

The world is full of loveless people like you. I know you’re only scared little children in men’s bodies, afraid of your vulnerability, afraid of death, afraid of admitting your limits. What can I do? I see you for who you really are. And you keep running away from me. But first you make sure I give you my love so that you can run away with it, proud of your theft.

You’re not running away with my love. My love is here, in my heart, surprised at the fact that you didn’t want to let it grow with yours. Love is for sharing, not to be stolen. I am puzzled at the way you’re only running away from yourself and believe I’m the one who’s crazy for wanting to assert the right to love and trying my best to find some good even in someone who treated me the way you did: heartlessly.