Third poem

"Love is an odd thing"

I strive to perfect it, contain it

Make it something I can show off

But what do I really love

When the theatre lights turn off?

Do I want to be perceived

Or do I want to be understood?

Do I crave to be believed

Or do I want to be good?

And what’s this ‘good’ I want to be?

Why can’t I just be me?

Is it a crime to want

To be my true self freely?

Do I love to be loved back

Or do I love because I feel it?

Do I want to go on a journey

For the finish or the path?

Do I want it to be an experience

I’ll recall with a fond smile?

Or do I want something that’ll last

At least for a longer while?

Why can’t I love without conditions?

Why must I rush how I feel?

Can’t I wait a little longer

For the one who’s right for me?

Why does my brain attach itself

To a string it can’t perceive

That’s tied to a pole, itself

That will drag me in the dark?

I want to love because I love love

I want to love because I want to live

Why must my brain rush things

That take time to be true?

I think there’s something with me

And my perception of love

Because every time I think

of someone loving me

I keep thinking it’s fake

And that it’ll take years to make

only to later be broken to bits

by misunderstandings

This fear of mine

It’s a plague

That I don’t know how to heal

A childhood wound so deep

It makes me afraid to feel

And when I do feel love again

I get scared and isolated

By this ugly fear of mine

The wound contorted and created