Romantic love never works for me.
Because I’m not even sure,
If I know what that kind of love is.
Feeling like you have to send a text,
To buy yourself a little more time,
From the truth, you’ve been avoiding.
That something feels off,
It doesn’t feel right,
It doesn’t feel natural.
You won’t be questioning.
Loyalty or commitment.
You won’t lie to them or yourself.
You won’t try to convince your friends.
Or compare how it felt with other people.
If you’re in the right place or if you’re happy.
You won’t feel like something is missing.
The spark. The excitement. The conviction.
Or silence your thoughts to make it work.
If it’s real, you won’t wonder if it’s love,
If you’re appreciated, if you’re wanted,
If you’re seen or heard or respected.
You would know if it’s worth fighting for,
You would know that it’s rare and delicate.
You would do your best to protect it.
If it’s real, you will feel like it is.
Thoughts and feelings in harmony.
You will see a future, and not a dead end.