And what in this cruel world is wickeder than love?
With its fiendish teeth sunk into its prey it injects a poison called happiness
And one can assume that it is pleasant for the time being but oh how it bites!
Joy shatters and what lies behind it is the black velvet drape that is despair.
Nothing pains us more, neither death, nor wounds of the flesh, nor affliction of the body
But the insufferable , unbearable stab to the heart that is love’s loss.
It leaves us utterly broken and yet completely whole.
Love is a fool’s game but in that time, a happy fool I was.
The scars of the heart make it hold together more heartily though it heals ever so slowly.
I will be willingly ensnared by this wicked love once more and I hope that once caught it will consume me completely.