Not Without Love, Without Want

Some constant, arrogant notion brought around to the forefront of my every waking hour, shall I ever know less, my own undoing to be so foolishly, cavalierly, eloquently intrepid. Were lessons not learned accompanied by burns and torn sleeves or dizzied, labored heaves? Have no warnings been offered by the glimmer and glow of heat, no precedent taught by Darwinian law?

What insidious thoughts leave my lorn love bereft of reason and my heavy heart harried with tenuous purpose. To have fallen again, and again, and each time left unsettled and vowing 'never again.'

How many times it could take to eventually leave that vow unbroken, filled so with aching regretful sorrow or pining, irreversible rage that love no longer fits. Love, with it's near ethereal, twisting, liquor scent, philanthropic nature to wind itself so easily and gracefully into your every cranny; nooks becoming chasms in which to hold fathomless depths of emotion and attachment. Love, so tender, as to kindle and spark the flames of passion and liberation of self. Love, an innate and inescapable addiction, the reason for reason and the truth behind truth. Love, the constant, unavoidable lift from which there can only be a fall.