If love is selfless, I do not know love,
Nor do I reap its benefits.

I eat upon it sordidly
Waiting to see what is to become of me.

And true, it is, that love may be,
Selfless, pure, in all it's dignity

For I not know the love that is
In all entirety, a selfless bid.

But wash upon me the shores of gold,
The wanderings of the new and old.

I want love as what it is,
To reap its plenty benefits.

To find the urge of knowing when,
Dying is better than losing a friend.