Heart Break

Love doth take the form of it’s creator;
For as man is complex, it is as well.
Undulating like a wave to a swell,
Receding to a small trickle later.
Oh! The heart! To misery it caters.
A fickle flaming; My personal hell.
To what purpose could this hope to avail?
If this be love, then call me love-hater.

Of love, I have none but for myself only.
For thine self is what thy own, truthfully.
Mine soul being my very own vessel.
Illuminating to not be lonely,
While embracing this one life youthfully,
With self and ego I constantly wrestle.