Love

It’s like fire,

nurture it and it grows,

leaving it alone, it’ll fizzle out.

I guess that’s the metaphor of my heart.

I have loved so hard that only I get burned. Everyone else never gets close enough to want me.

My fire has fizzled out. I no longer have love to give.

And yet, my heart still craves it as if it were my last meal.

Both platonic and romantic.

But my love is old,

hopeless romantic.

I wish I were born in a different era where my love didn’t seem old fashioned.

Then maybe, I’d fit in and find where I belong.

For now, I cannot love.

I don’t want to be burned anymore for it.

My heart will remain cold, until someone can light the fire again.