I've refused my heart access,
to poems about love,

I've told myself over and over,
I don't need it anymore

I've solely allowed myself,
to revel in my heart ache,
by reading poems of a similar vain

But what I've just realised,
is to ignore the beauty of the little things,
to ignore the love that exists right now,
is such carelessness -
a total lack of regard for those who are,
at present,
engulfed in what once was.

I suppose we should keep reading the lover's poems,
someone needs to empower them, after all.