I don't love very often. They love me, and I can't love them. And when I know enough to maybe love, love has given up on me.
I loved a boy at 16. I loved a boy who loved me, and who loved her who loved him and hated me. I loved a boy and I never wanted to love like that again.
And it worked. At least for a while. I didn't love. I didn't date. I didn't hurt.
I loved a thief at 18. A trickster who’d tricked me into being tricked again. He snuck through my rules. He dodged my guards. And he stole my heart.
I loved an enigma at 19. He’d taken my heart and I’d have given him anything if he’d ask. He never did. He never has. He never will?
I’ve lost my heart and am losing my mind. I can’t stop thinking no matter how hard I try.
I'd love like this again.