My Love

My love is impure. A mixture of love and diluted hatred. My love is delusional, breathing in chunks of reality here and there. My love is tired. Heartbroken. Tired of starting over.

My love has been dragged in the dirt, by some so-called lovers. My love was shattered into crumbs when he left without a proper goodbye. My love for her was brought back to life on her sickbed while she held on to life, to her love for us.

With a numb face and a cold heart, I secure what is left of my love for girls like me who need a love refill. A drop here and there. These days my love is tired. Tired is my love.

When you ask who my love is, I stare endlessly on this blank page full of heartbreaks. I don’t know what love is but I can show you all versions of my love.

My love is pure.

My love is beautiful. My love is pure. My love is warm. My love is evergreen. My love is love.

Above it all, my love is tired. My love needs love too.

This my entry for Day 0 of the 7 days writing challenge by Evolve writers, a group of writers growing together.