To be unlucky in love
to have your heart broken again
and again
and yet again.
To feel as if you have been used
and to a certain degree been willingly abused
To know
that somehow you have known all along
that past can’t be turned into present
that present can’t be turned into future
but yet you gather the pieces again
to assemble something
that resembles a heart again –
a little bit more bulletproof than before
battered
and ridden with holes
still vulnerable anyway
only to be offered
and rejected yet again
back and forth
back and forth
and to be back to square one again.
Is there an end to this?
Or maybe you can expect
everything and anything but love
in this ultra abundant world.
Is there a medicine
to let go
and get right back up?
To accept
but be incapable of feeling love?
Is there a poison that turns heart into a stone?
Is there a way you can move on
unmoved?
How do you find hope in this mess?
How do you find strength to lift this off your chest?
And how do you stop being a fool?
How do you follow the unsaid rules?
Is there a way that memories can be erased?
Is there a way that fresh starts can be made?
And yet nothing changes
You continue to stay who you are.
Is there a way to stop bothering?
Is there a way to stop longing?
Is there a way to accept the abrupt endings?

I know there’s nothing wrong
With being unlucky
Perhaps there’s a latent desire
to be ultimately left alone,
With amicable traces
of now dormant volcano of emotions
exploding now and then
everytime, everytime when
I find you.
But you disappear
terrified
petrified
to become another forbidden name in my history
In late night drunk thoughts;
What if this?
And what if that?
A ghost
An idea
A dream
Now lost forever.