Loving someone is difficult.

Loving someone is difficult. It is heart wrenching, soul crushing, and the most addictive habit one can form. The highs sky rocket and the lows bring you to your knees. So I write.

 

Loving someone is difficult,

no matter which way it goes.

You try your best to be civil, but

find yourself gripping throws.

A moment of weakness interrupts

the measured steps we claim.

And beating hearts seem to erupt

in wanting, sorrow, shame.

Loving someone is difficult;

there always comes a time

when my love seems much heavier

than your love is mine.

My gaze always lasts longer,

my words a bit more sweet.

My hand entwines yours stronger

walking down the street.

To love someone is difficult.

To present your heart anew,

each day a naive offering

beneath the sole of a shoe.

While gazes never seem to target

the beating mass below

unconscientious footsteps

still deliver painful blows.

 

So silently I carry a love heavier than thine,

careful not to show the strain while walking side by side.

I do not wish to burden you with any weight to share,

for what if my love is heavier than any you could bear.

 

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