I wrote about love in the absence of love.
I want to feel this love just as much as I fear it.
Am I not enough? Am I not enough? Am I incomplete, missing.
I have loved him as much as I have loathed him.
So much wisdom yet so naive.
Regret and lack, that’s all I get from your love.
Regret the foundation of my love for you and lack; that I’m not enough, I’m not worthy of you; of love.
I’ve written about love in the absence of love.