It’s hard for me to think about loving again. The idea to trust myself in the hands of another, and to take the time to get to know them just suffocates me. I am left with a fear that grows, because it was planted by all those who I asked to come into my life, only to be left with a home that is unoccupied. The creaks of this lonely house are the only sounds heard at night, the seasons are changing and still I fear that no one wants to call me their safe place. I see love from afar, and cannot seem to reach for it, because I have chased it in all the wrong places and at all the wrong times.
My head and heart used to be at war, now they see the casualties that it brings; now they just want to not hurt. I don’t want to think of love as a difficult thing, I don’t want to flinch at the thought of opening my soul to another, or to become a bitter old man who has lost hope altogether. It’s so hard for a wounded heart to beat as it once did, and I don’t have the energy that I once had, because the years are catching up, leaving me to greet the silence as my only companion in life; perhaps love will find me, and then I can understand that flowers grow with the help of winter’s snow, and that not all that appear dead are actually lost forever, but that life can be regained with the return of spring’s most glorious sunlight.
I look forward to that gentle kiss of love.”