I remember when I used to fall in love with anything.
A boy, a friend, a poem, a song
The singers in bands I listened to, people I saw in the cars next to mine at stop lights.
I fell in love with the sky, the dawn, the night and the trees.
I fell in love with empty roads, piles of books, blue eyes and the moon.
I fell in love with the feeling of falling in love
The way too much sleep makes you tired.
And love became tired of me.
It started to bruise me,
Scraping my knees as I crawled after it,
Breaking my ribs as it reached in to retrieve my heart once more,
Tangling my hair with it's restless hands and hot whispers
Then soothing me
Cleaning the wounds that it created
Ringing me out and wiping my face
As if to say "There now. I might have hurt you, but I also made you feel better in the end. I'm not the monster here."
In the end I began fleeing from love,
The moment I saw it approaching.