To all the cliché lovers,
There are times where these tears tend to descend down the more plush area of my face without my permission.
They tend to fall at random, when my soul is unwilling to welcome the veracity.
The veracity in where my love is not valued beyond similar genes.
Because those who claim that their heart only beats for me, die.
Hypothetically, of course.
It's pretty obvious if your heart only beats because you couldn't live without me you would be dead before you were born.
You would actually fail to exist.
You're fooling yourself if you believe in that kind of love. But then again when is love never foolish.
Point of the matter is, there are some people who cannot handle living with a fractured heart. Not as nearly as much of those who fractured it.
I am beginning to think I am one of these unique people. Look how long we have survived with such a wound. But something tells me my story may end sooner than I contemplated.
I could be wrong, but sometimes I don't want to be. Quite honestly, I just need a few stitches and I'll be reconcile in no time. But I haven't found the most sufficient doctor nor one that is licensed for the job.
I wouldn't want to die on the table that would be such an abominable death. A paradox really. Operating to continue a life but you end it instead.
Anyway, enough analogies. I just....I no longer aspire the feeling of convulsion of my severed heart. I would like to heal as soon as possible.
A Wounded Love Soldier