Never Love Again

What hurts me the most is I don’t want to love again. Whether I will or not is probably out of my control, but you have changed my very nature. You murdered the hopeless romantic in me when you executed our daughter. With her death you gave birth to a cinic. I had always been in love with love, no matter the number of heartbreaks. I was always hopeful of repair and falling in love all over again and starting over, a new love story. Being swept off my feet, carried away lightly by wind, be showered in a million roses and dine by candlelight, a man singing at my balcony, feeling chills with one caress. You have taken that away from me. I now cringe at the thought of it, laugh, mock at the thought of it.

I crave the moment I can restore my sexual appetite and then sleep around and not feel anything, don’t care for anyone. I want to treat men like objects and build the tallest wall of all. I don’t want to share my space again. I won’t share myself again. I don’t want someone to open another tab on my time for them to control. You made me angry with love. Out of all those songs you sang for me and the ones you wrote for me, you danced to the tempo of “I am Your Man”. You bailed out quite quickly on that one or maybe not: “I’ve been running through these promises to you that I made and could not keep”. I guess we both faltered on our wedding songs. And now I want love to stay the fuck away. You have changed my very nature and turned me against love. I hope I never love again.