i thought i was losing hope in love, but then I realized it’s not loving that keeps disappointing me. It is who i express my love to.
i am already obsessed with love; however, it is not pink hearts, high hopes, and cute kisses.
see, I have a bad habit of turning things into art. it happens to emotions too.
i turned love into poetry, and it wasn’t enough. i needed more. i needed to spice it up. with time i discovered pain, faith, grief, disappointment, passion, rush, possessiveness, sadness, and lust.
i still seek the love i think i deserve, but art took over my body a few heartbreaks ago, and now i can’t view love in its pure form.
i need more because im still having a hard time accepting less is really more.
and love just itself is enough.
- hedonist poet