Love, how I can not bear thy heart’s piercing eyes upon my naked soul.
For the danger lies in everlasting words,
spoken not by hatred but through the purpose of love.
By goodwill is goodwill undone.
And hate and pain do from love get their best manure,
and their roots do therefore grow
the slyest web the heart’s ever felt.
Never do we get to see the shrouded truths,
hidden in the heart’s mirrored souls.
For in every moment, of every breathless second,
all is blurred into one oversized deceit,
fed by our blinded doubts and fears of love.
The mere paradox in which we are both the judge and the judged, and always the victim.
Alas, love is both the necessity, by which we live and love,
and the abyss that will one day swallow our will to live.
Thus the joy to live, and therefore to love,
is lost in the need for love.
He who loves must by love be consumed.
Oh, how I hate how I both hate and love thee, “love”,
as is only befitting the dual nature of such a force of madness.