Sometimes I think that we are all lovers
With nothing and no one to love fearlessly
Our impediment is not the shortfall of love we get
But the paucity of space to love, to give love
We are attracted to things we think we can love
Not the things we think will love us
We only need love in return, for security
Because how can we let go of that what we love
Who will we give all our love to then?
If our love is neither needed nor appreciated
If it fails to make the object of our affection happy
It becomes joyless, meaningless to give love
So we need them to need our love
And we need them to love us and stay lovely
To never stop being someone we can love
But things change, at times they change, at times we change
Our preferences and ideas change or our situations change
And when that what we loved can no longer inspire
love in our hearts, or is no longer ours to love
We start feeling sterile, empty and hollow inside
We again become a lover with no one to love
With our exhausted, aching hearts
Our object of affection has been yanked
Out of our hands so many times
And the pain was so grave each time, that now
We are terrified to love, or to love more
We want to be loved first and loved more first
Loved by someone we can love always
So we can finally love fearlessly
Our actions are being driven by fear now
And very little by love
Confused from ancient times
We have been complicating our lives
We have become lovers scared of loving
Such is the paradox of life.


Photographer Unknown
Poetry © Copyright 2016, Opinionated Head