The Broken Promise I Cling To

What happened to that promise, made so long ago?
That promise that I made, that silent, invisible promise?
I promised. I know I did.
And you know nothing of it.
You still know nothing.
And I pray that it stays that way.

Because I will hold on to this broken promise.
I will be the one hanging on -
grasping, scraping, struggling to hang on.
And I will not show you my selfish emotions.
I cannot.

What is love?
This terrible, horrible emotion that fills us all.
Why do we need it?
It clouds judgement.
Makes us weak.

And yet humans seem to adore it so much.
They pen songs about it,
they wax lyrical about it.
The irony is - Am I not waxing lyrical about this emotion as well?
I laugh.

Love, the fool of us all.
Love.
What do we know about it?
What do we truly know?
It is a poison that spreads through our veins with such slowness
that I do not know if I should wish to die before it is done with me.


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