“Does love exist,” she asked

 

“Expectations unmet

And feelings are held on to closely

On a short leash…

And what about love?

Love stays in my head

Not my heart

It lives on as a concept

It seldom, if ever

Enters my aching heart

 

Does it exist? Anywhere?

And should it exist?

My relationships are but a transaction

Held together precariously

By a concept called ‘duty’.

 

What makes ‘duty’ more dear than love?

Perhaps because I sees that everybody else thinks so…

Love is this fluid, uncontrollable ache

Love knows no partiality

It reveals all

And that’s the scary part

That in love

I will be seen in my nakedness

My skin will lie before you

In all its blemishes

My aching heart will

with innate gravity and force

Drop me to unimaginable lows

I will long for you and your deliverance

With no certainty ever

That I shall be received by the open arms of your own longing

 

Love can just about assure me of two mercies:

Hope and Faith.

But it is duty that’s more prudent,

more pragmatic

It helps me float over the ache

 

And it is Duty that pays the bills

For all those distractions

That fill up my space and time

And love continues to live on

In my head

As a concept.

And because it does

there are expectations unmet

And feelings restrained.”

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