i used to believe in this certain kind
of the abstract concept of love:
one that lights up the skies with stars
in strokes of yellow and blue and white,
of galaxies falling down on earth
and collecting in the prettiest pair of eyes.
i used to believe it was a ball of fire
contained in the hollow cavities of the heart,
and once tapped it explodes through your veins, down your bones
and you feel the most alive.
i used to think it'll consume your soul
and believe me i wanted to be devoured,
so i scoured the earth in search of a love
that's been misguided from the very start.

don’t even think, i’ll give you a spoiler:
it didn’t end happily ever after.
i’m not a princess, there is no prince,
there’s no curse to be broken by true love’s first kiss.
the stars were but the dots of blue and red lights
pulsating with the loud music of a dark dingy bar,
the galaxies were but the swirl of liquor in a glass,
the fire but the small orange light bulb up above.
lips and bodies move, they collide,
still there’s a harrowing emptiness inside,
hands that reach for what i usually hide
can’t seem to touch the deepest recesses of my heart. how it pines —
how it yearns,
for a spark that’ll rekindle,
for a hearth to tend in the cold evening air.
i once thought it could love
with all the love i contain inside,
and be loved,
by a frozen heart that seeks no one.

don’t even think — i did say earlier —
it never ends happily ever after,
and the aftermath?
it was a heart
malfunctioning
a heart
that lost its feeling
a heart
that’s always hurting
a heart
both fearing and willing
a heart
made of paradox and irony.

this certain kind of love,
i still wonder where it is found.
obviously not
from the boy with a sweet smile and crinkled eyes,
with words woven from the depths of his soul
that wrapped its tendrils around my heart;
not
from the girl with a cigarette between her lips
donned in clothing as dark as the streets at night,
as dark as the soul she’s nurtured inside;
not
from the boy with wide eyes of innocence,
whose lips consumed me as if i was air,
who wanted me for my body and nothing else;
not from him
not from her
not from them
then where
pray tell me, dear, where
do i rest my heart
from this certain kind of love?

i’ve been taught to give
and i’ve been giving
and giving
and giving
i’ve been taught not to expect
and believe me, i’m trying.
but how long can a heart take
before it completely breaks
for i’m starting to get wounded from the fallen pieces —
i’m running out of love to give.
is there a remedy for a heart that is weary?
will i ever see stars and galaxies?

this night has gone on for far too long,
it’s a tale with no ending. an unfinished song
with no melody,
no harmony,
just a simple monotony.

the universe expands to unknown boundaries
and will one day collapse into a single centrality
when all is spent of its contained energy.
so will my heart;
for it expands,
it extends,
it reaches,
for this certain kind of love that was promised
by the world who has always been selfish —
and there is none.

my heart?
it is done.
i am done
i am done
believing in something
so abstract it won’t even
make itself real for me.
the stars are but remnants of dead ***** of fire,
the curse a sorry excuse for a lie.

settling for less than what is right
for the heart will cause it to lose its light,
**** its fire.

i’m burnt out.