“Love does not exist”

“Love is ****”

“Love is just a word that we make up in our heads to fill our infinite emptiness”,

Is what I say to myself. As if I could drill these beliefs into my head, subliminal messages to soothe my cracked and flaking heart.

These lungs are my own personal generator fueling my skull

Turbines working overtime

Maybe love is the only tangible idea within this existence

Maybe I am just scared

So I bury the idea under the earth, waiting for the tree roots to weave themselves throughout my love

And sprouting a small, delicate oak tree. And one day, it will grow.

And like all flowers or trees, this seed will need water

and plenty of sunshine