i have been writing about love for as long as i can remember,

and for as long as i can remember, i never understood it.

i never understood the way our hearts, caged in our bodies, sheltered by

our blood, and protected by our ribs, can so easily be worn on our sleeves,

exposed naked to the one stranger that made it skip an extra beat.

i never understood how, our hearts, designed specifically to keep

us alive, can neglect everything and jump into its own destruction

just to keep beating for someone else.

they say love stems from the heart, but i think it flows from the brain,

because truly, it has a mind of its own.

they say love is picky, but it really just takes a single stroke of the soul

to become completely, and utterly obsessed over the feeling.

soon, your entire biology, every single one of your cells, becomes obsessed

with every counterpart of this stranger. your lips wants to dance,

you procreate with your gaze, your fingers start forming puzzles, and every

word uttered to one another becomes art.

until every word uttered to one another becomes violent and dark

and the heart is torn, like wrapping paper on Christmas day, bits and

pieces all over the living room floor. until every word uttered to one

another, are not words at all, but wishes, and what ifs.

i never understood love. and how quickly our hearts forget to beat

just to keep us alive.

maybe that’s it, isn’t it?

maybe love is what makes us feel alive,

and not our heart, at all.