Many conversations on the topic of  love with those who denounce it as if they’ve resisted its pull and beaten it down or are somehow above it but it’s a form of denial because they do not want to admit that love has in fact beaten them left them battered and bruised with such severe pain that they are afraid to face  it again and I suspect that I too may be in denial and this thought takes the form of inquisitive words that float in a bubble above me restlessly pressing for answers becoming both my stalker and companion so I wonder and ponder which is the truth if I am unlucky in love as I would like to believe or if I consciously choose not to answer its call fearing the power it has over me will render me weak unable to stop the inevitable fall and in a moment the words become still and the question is transformed into answers and I know that my fear isn’t the fall, but the risk of falling alone.


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