My heart finds relief in the darkest part of

itself, faded in my own search of bliss.

While I wept, I couldn’t believe in anything

more than love itself, so I loved you, but you

broke me so bad.

Till I slept off all through the pain, away to

my death, I tried to find love again, but I only

fooled myself. I never actually believed I

could love more than yourself, tried to

mediate the pain, cheat my heart itself.

I kept lying to myself until I finally found

this new girl, time didn’t heal me one bit; this

was a bigger concept. But the trauma from

that heartbreak never got swept, even by the

tsunami and tornado of this newfound help.

This endless hell, will it ever end? Does it

even make sense? Am I falling in love or just

alleviating my old pain? Will I be broken

again, and will it too, turn everything inept?

I’ve been so alone for so long that I can’t even

differentiate between what is love and what

is meant to just feel sane.