Your love is like a drug that everybody uses. You want to know the outcome? It depends on how you use it. Love could be your best friend; Love could be your enemy; Love could be the thing you wish you had, but you don’t ever see. Love could be the reason why you’re afraid to have it. Some say it like it means something. To others? It’s a habit, some would say it’s tragic, and some would say it’s beautiful. Some would say it’s black, and it’s dark, like a funeral. Some would die for it. Some don’t even think it’s real. Some say they understand it, but really don’t know how it feels. Some say that it’s alive, some say that it kills. But most of us that have it know that sometimes it will. I’m not going to sugarcoat it, sometimes love might surround you. One minute it’s saving you, the next it’s going to drown you. Some people want to show it, but we’re never taught how to. Some of us that are searching for it. Feeling like it’s never found you.
Love is like a privilege, yet a lot of us abuse it. Do with it what we want to, then start drama when we lose it. We pretend like it isn’t anything to us, we pretend like it’s useless. We don’t know why we do this, but then we still pursue it. Love? It can consume you, turn you into something else. Bury the real you so deep that you can’t ever find yourself. Love? It can change you. Love? It can tear you down. But the best thing you ever had, then kick you on the ground. You get on that high level, then you’re scared to fall, because you know that if that person ever hurts you, you’re going to lose it all. They told you they would be there for you. Now they don’t answer your calls, so that openness that you’re used to have, has now become a wall. Some say love is patient, some say love is kind. Some hope love is invisible, but I know I’m just blind. To some it’s only physical, a lie up in their mind. But, through all the pain I swear that I love it. No matter what you’re doing, it doesn’t disappear, does it? I’d rather spend a minute with love in my life then go a million years without it. And yet, it brings pain, it’s insane, but the bruises? Love can take that all away. When you find that person, everything you thought was not? All the sudden becomes worth it.
See all poetry for Seamus McCloud #512148