quite simply i am just no good at love

august twelfth, 2019

quite simply i am just no good at love, though

i am not truly bad neither; the truth is that i am

extraordinarily average at loving people and it

shows in the things i do. but, despite this, in

everything that bears any faint resemblance

to love, i invest myself with the feverish and

desperate essence of my being, the red,

shimmering core of emotion that hides mediocrity.

yes, i am consumed, i am thoroughly scorched,

i am torn through as a fire would, and i bring

this into motion myself, though not consciously.

it is the garden of the tainted romantic and the

expelled narcissist. i am fated to destruction,

and soon it will burn me completely out and i

will be a flower on the bank of the river, not

by intent but by inherent design, unknown

and interrupted.

Author's Note

some imagery and metaphor in use here... i am open to any feedback!