Take it slow,
Love will come to you,
not the other way around.
But what is love, really?
Is it the summer breeze,
or the winter snowstorm?
It is, perhaps, merely an abstract idea?
A fragile sakura petal in the wind
landing in the palm of your hand,
fleeting, delicate, there for only a short time.
Or is it the passage of time?
Where there once was pleasantries,
slowly breaking in the feel of another body
until you associate touch with love.
And yet I still wonder,
What is love?
Is it text message breakups?
cold words that jump from your phone to your mind,
and fester and rot until someone tells you
that you are worth more than him?
But I don't think it's that at all.
I think love is merely a concept,
an emotion that is not truly there.
It is everything and nothing.
Love conquers all,
but others fall because of it.
So, If I had the choice,
from what I've seen,
I would never love.
I would just exist.
Because that is what I was made to do,
and I doubt anyone could ever love me anyway.
