Love is selfish.
That seems to be the only thing I’ve learned through my experiences.
Not you, you say?
I call your bluff and ask who you’re trying to kid.
I guess that’s in the pudding as they say, except who are they?
We take first and give second.
It isn’t as though you’re independent upon first entering this world.
Love is blinding.
We walk through life hoping to find someone who will show us a light.
But for what purpose?
Who can admit to wanting to go through life alone and actually believe themselves?
Does it really matter?
Not to the tears, worries or words unable to take back.
How else could something last forever, yet end so abruptly?
It gets better.
Something you’re told in order to await the day it all stops hurting.
Does it ever stop?
Eventually; as you take your last breaths and succumb to the notion that either way, we ultimately sleep alone.