Affection is a fickle thing.
It morphs and changes interminably,
Wreaking havoc in its wake.
Havoc. Heartbreak. Hurt.

I put up walls to protect myself,
Because I’m scared by the change.
Humourless. Haughty. Hidden.
Perhaps you’ve been the same?

But behind the walls, I’ve been dying,
Losing parts of myself.
Haunted. Hollow. Hurting.
Getting so tired of trying.

Then I met him.

He came as a hurricane.
Saw through my darkness and reminded me of the light,
“arise fair sun”.
He may not know, but he’s breathed life back to me,
And given me reason to hope anew.
Hope. Happiness. Him.

Affection is a fickle thing
But whatever trials may come in future,
Mine seems steadfast.