As a child, I used to believe love didn't exist
Because if love was real, my dad wouldn't have left my mom
If love was real, my dad would have visited us

Then I grew up and I wasn't sure I believed in God either,
Because if God was real, He wouldn't have made my mother sick
If God was real, why did He abandon me?

And if God was love and God didn't exist, then surely love didn't either.
They became supporting statements, a hypothesis to be tested.
And then I proved myself wrong by falling in love.
And maybe, just maybe, if love was real then so was God.

But the God I knew wasn't a merciful one and the God that answered my prayers took my love.
He bundled it up and gave it away, and maybe it isn't that God doesn't exist and neither does love, but that maybe, just maybe, I'm not meant to be loved.