Of a Wounded Heart

Inspired by the quote; “Love is the slowest form of suicide.”

No matter the sense,

No matter the pain,

I always come back to you

Again and again.

I don’t understand

What’s wrong with me,

I’ve never felt this way,

These emotions are spinning.

I think and I think,

About who you are to me…

And all I come up with,

Is absolutely nothing.

I claim that I love you,

But, I don’t even know you.

I turn around and

I cry it all out.

You claim that you love me,

But, who am I really?

Just a girl?

Do you really and truly?

Why do you mock me?

Throw my love in my face,

Shatter my heart,

And cause me to fall?

I once was so strong,

But, then you broke me.

I knew no love,

And no joy.

I was painless,

But, now I love…

And it’s killing me.

It’s ripping me apart.

A blunt sword,

A serrated edge,

A bed of nails,

Would be less painful.

But, I see your smile

And I cant help,

But smile too.

It’s so strange.

Oddly enough,

I find myself

Wishing that I was the one.

Then finding myself crushed again.

I would never let you down,

I would hold you high,

I would love you always.

But, it makes no difference.

Unlike wounds

Of the flesh,

The wounds of the heart

Are never to heal.

I wish you would love me,

As I do you.

I wish with all my heart.

But, it is too late.

Love her as I do you.

My love, I wish you well,

For this love

Is my suicide…