Love,
of all the emotions,
is our favorite.
For love, in itself, encompasses
all other emotions.
It can fill your heart to a hundred,
and can empty it to a zero.
Yet we still busy ourselves looking for it.
When maybe, at this point in time,
the only person that you have been waiting
to love you,
is yourself.
For no one loves the misery in you,
they only learn to love you
in your miseries.
Love is a bullet
we always catch.
It was a sword
we let pierce through.
It was poison
we are addicted to.
Love killed us,
but it made us alive once again.