Love to Love

Why do we crave it like air in our lungs,

Yet choke on the venom of poisoned tongues?

Love to love—it makes me sick,

A game of chance where the fuse burns quick.

Love to love—you keep on hurting me,

Bound in chains while we beg to be free.

It’s not fair, this ache in the chest,

This endless cycle of broken rest.

Can I be angry at the word itself?

Tossed about like a book on a shelf,

Handed out like a cheap candy box,

Wrapped in ribbons, sealed with hard locks.

They use the word for power and gain,

Not to heal, but to harvest the pain.

Love to love—I have burned time and time again,

Ash in the mouths of deceitful men.

Love to love—I cry over you,

Wondering why love is never quite true.

Why does love not love me back?

Leaving my soul in a desolate black.

Love to love—I am empty inside,

Nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide.

How do I find the pieces of me

Shattered in this human sea?

What is this word, and why is it so big?

A trap we dig, a grave we twig.

We either want it, or bleed from its weight,

Or learn to curse it, and turn it to hate.

We swear we never want to hear it again,

Crying out loud in our bitter pain.

But can we truly hate love in its core?

Or just the wreckage upon our floor?

Let me be clear—let the truth be said:

Divine love lives where the ego is dead.

I know that God is love, pure and grand,

Holding the stars in the palm of His hand.

Jesus is love, selfless and deep,

Binding the wounds of the lost and the sheep.

So why can we not love like Them?

Why do we crush every fragile stem?

Why do we want out of relationships so bad,

Destroying the best of the things that we had?

Lives are wrecked, and we end up with naught,

Trapped in the webs that our selfishness wrought.

Love to love—it makes me sick.

Love to love—the sickness is thick.

Yet the spirit cries out through the pain and the shove:

Lord, show me how to forgive... and how to love.