what is love, really?

(no, am not dead. yet. partially, you can say. anyhoo, came up with a piece after quite long. thought to pamper my blog a little, since I had not posted anything since march. tw: well, whatever... a dark take on love.)  

what is love, really?

is it mindlessly romanticizing the butterflies of your imagination? 

or is it the short-lived honey-dipped so-called "never-ending" conversations? 

is it to quietly blur the boundaries between consent and acceptance? 

or is it to blindly allow the violation of your body that slowly shatters your existence? 

is it longing for that intimacy which may go astray if the going gets tough? 

or it is normalising the infidelity despite having that privilege of being loved? 

is it that unadulterated desire to be with the person you have set your heart on? 

or is it this shallow feeling wrapped in an inherent fear of loneliness you might have to live on? 

what is love, really? 

its shades of warm red slowly turn darker with ceaseless ticking of time, 

eventually leaving stale memories of unfulfilled promises and desires behind

its darkness blinds your sensibilities as life passes you by

it stabs you in your chest with this cold rage of reality and eventually bleeds your heart dry

this may look like an assault on 'love' by a star-crossed jilted lover, 

but, you tell me, my dear reader, as its novelty wears off with passing time, doesn't a piece of love disappear? 

love eventually turns into a cold, black, overwhelming, and exhausting feeling

but, my friend, no matter how hard I try to dismiss it, 

love still remains to be an experience worth living.