one not always modeled for us.
many will claim to love, most
fail to draw in the boundaries.
Hallways
twisting with mirrors,
reflecting the mirage of ourselves
lackluster love taught us to be.
Hollow rooms
brimming with uncertainty and one singular clock
ticking until the next blow.
It's not easy building this house from scratch
if you've never had the tools.
Love's illusion pulsates in the hands of
distant souls
as they caress carelessly the body
you've worked so hard to rebuild.
The parts of you that have healed slip through their palms
like sand.
The cut that lovelessness bleeds
can't be healed by anothers' careless touch.
Hands outstretched hoping for relief,will be met by the loneliness left behind by lust.
And time is wasted waiting
to be rescued
by lost boys.
Failed attempts do not numb you to outside's cold
so you crawl under the crumbling foundation and
make this cave cultivated by cynicism
your hideaway.
It's not easy to let go of pain when
it's what's kept you grounded for so long.
But love is not meant to ground you,
it's meant for you to rise within.
Halt the search party for your architect.
Build a framework of your own,
a love within yourself that you
are excited to share and call home.
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