On Valentine’s Day: You are not in love.

What you feel isn’t love, 
Nor are you in a new world. 
Only enjoying the newness 
Of your latest conquest. 
The butterflies aren’t real, 
They signify nothing but
An eagerness to test new fruits, 
To feel new juices. 
You were hurt 
And will be again. 
You’ve only sold out to
Another empty being, 
Incapable of loving. 
Your book of love, 
A transfiguration of 
Empty passion,
Seamless and boring. 
Leave your love
Underneath the shelf, 
And hurt no more. 
For it brings expectations, 
Mortals can’t fulfill. 
You’re not in love, 
Only dancing on gravels. 
With head buried in the sand, 
Gravel-blind and naïve. 
Love yourself. 
Immersing in your being. 
You may be all you’ll have, 
Till you cross the shores. 
Mortals don’t love – 
Someday maybe or not. 
So, you ain’t in love
Only infatuated,
Swimming in amorous desires. 
©Enenim Ubon 
Image credit: Google

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