May 2019
I won't write about love,
Nor will I speak about it.
I won't try to understand it either.
Neither will I try to understand those in love.
For I have never felt love,
And I will not pretend to know what it feels like.
I won't act like I know what it is.
For all I know,
It could be as painful as a bullet through the heart,
As sweet as chocolate covered strawberries,
Or as strange as snow in the summer.
So this poem.
This is not about love,
But about not writing about
What I think love is.
Nor will I speak about it.
I won't try to understand it either.
Neither will I try to understand those in love.
For I have never felt love,
And I will not pretend to know what it feels like.
I won't act like I know what it is.
For all I know,
It could be as painful as a bullet through the heart,
As sweet as chocolate covered strawberries,
Or as strange as snow in the summer.
So this poem.
This is not about love,
But about not writing about
What I think love is.
I am so sick of people judging other people in love. They're pretending like they know everything about love as if they've ever been in love. You can't judge what you don't know. You can't know what you've never felt. You can't feel what you've never had.
