lundi, d├ęcembre 04, 2006

Don't Use That Word

I can't hear that word today
without a quick blow to the intestines
seeming to happen:
'Love, you love me.'
I can be loved by a madman, too,
but it doesn't bring me comfort.

Where is love? I ask myself,
In the giving
or in the receiving?
Where does love happen? When is it truly born?
Is love really love if it is unrequited?
If one side does not return it, is it really love?

I am showing love for you
to the pain,
till it hurts,
till I'm numb,
just to prove how loyal I can be.
I have not refused
anything you have asked
again, again, again,
I go,
I see,
I speak,
I listen,
trying to make people who will
not love me, love me...

This group effort of unrequited love
which you endorse with your wavering heart,
and promote with your silence.
I only want their love
because it seems to stand in the way
of yours.
Is this truly love you have for me then?
Or is it my own version of the madman?

...I am dying inside today.

Pleas don't use that word.