Enemy

I’m not used to loving. I’m not used to giving myself over to a connection to someone other than myself or something other than my faith.

I ran as far as I could
I didn’t care what it would take.

Or what it would take from me.

Because I can’t allow myself to love anymore
I’ve let love make me its whore.

Its concubine.

Its prostitute of pain that is here to sustain it’s wrath any time it pleases.

It uses me until I have nothing left.

It abuses me until hope seems foreign and remote.

Just hearing those words you spoke,

“I love you”

If I uttered them, I’d probably choke.

Therefore,

I mark my heart as MY territory
To those who ask, I’ll tell my story

I fell in love with someone who could never, ever love me.

That is why I’ll remain till I die

Love’s enemy.