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Loveless (1 Viewer)


I am loveless.
Not to say that I am incapable of love, but in being loved itself.
You all know and love as something.
Each of you takes from me something of which I offer freely and each of you offer something in return but to be loved fully?
I very much to this day believe it is something in which I have never and will never feel.
Someone once said to me “you don’t love me, you love what I do for you.”
Whilst this was said to me in a moment of anger it has sat with me.

Every human being is a puzzle. We are all born with a complete set of pieces. Some of these pieces we hand off to others in the form of “love” we trust that the ones we give these pieces to will look after them, cherish them. Sometimes these pieces can stay with a person for life, sometimes they come back to you unscathed, and sometimes they come back damaged beyond recognition.
We try to regift these broken pieces but they are never the same.
If we are lucky we find someone who can love these broken parts of us but in most cases they come back to us more damaged than before.
I have a lot of broken pieces.
Pieces I will never show to the world again.
If these pieces we are born with add up to the human soul then how can one experience real love without showing a complete puzzle?
The answer is they can’t.
So I say again.
You don’t love me, you love what I do for you.
You love the strength I give you.
The loyalty I have for you, the laughter and happiness I can bring.
You love me to the depth I allow you to because those broken pieces I now hold deep inside.
I know better than to regift them.
This time I know better.

There’s an overused phrase when it comes to “true love”
The phrase is “you complete me”
This can mean many things to many.
To me it’s the idea that all of your pieces fit together in perfect harmony.
This is false, for we all have parts of ourselves we keep hidden.
If we are lucky Over time we may convince ourselves that this person, this individual who loves our visible selves so much can learn to love the hidden parts of us too.
We show them just a little bit of our broken selves and the cycle continues.
For Who we are and who we show the world will always be different.
I can be a friend, a partner in crime, a father, a coach, a helping hand, a sympathetic ear, but I am never all of me, not to anyone , not even to myself.
I am not the master of my universe,
I am a slave to yours.
I am all of me and i am none of me,
Somebody’s something, nobody’s everything.
A canvas you all paint using unique colours,
I am an interpretation of what you believe me to be.
Nothing more.
Not to you, not to me,
not to anyone.

Phil Istine

WF Veterans
This feels more like prose than poetry to me, but such a style is not uncommon these days and if you call it a poem I accept that.
It is quite a fascinating take on the subject of love and interesting to read.
I think the poem could have ended after the second stanza, because it seemed a natural end, and after that could have been a separate poem on the same subject.
I like it when a different perspective is offered, so thank you for that.


Senior Member
I'm far from an expert but I liked your thoughts and your meanings of love and how it fits in your world. We live in a world full of perceptions and perspectives and they are all unique to each individual. Thank you for sharing.


WF Veterans
I have to agree with Phil's prose point. Visually the piece is unwieldy, and with poetry a lot of its allure is in the balance of its presentation. While I'm guessing this is a very personal dissertation, the voice of the narrator seems a bit generic on an oft debated topic. It is archetyal. The piece would benefit from clearer edges with its message.

- D.
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