Love never dies a natural death.

It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source

. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals.

It dies of illness and wounds;

it dies of weariness, of witherings,

of tarnishings. Anais Nin

I read this passage today, and it literally put daggers to my soul. I have been in my head space ... over thinking.

Thinking of loss, and thinking of hope.

Love when blossoming is beautiful and sweet to the taste. You find yourself drunk in it, wanting to gulp it down ... devour it ... own it with every fiber of your being .

Yet you find cracks in the armor of love... words of bitterness and resentment leave deep crags in what seemed so secure, so stable and so desired.

Ignoring that fragile bloom it begins to wither from neglect, or a hardened heart. Lack of trust, or callous deceptions.

Fracturing what once was ... leaving it with what is.

and it is.... broken ... shattered .. .

and with that ... here is what i know ... I have loved with my whole heart and have not had that love returned. I have given with my soul and lost it I have given all of me .. and my porcelain heart has been shattered ... irreparably so...

but I throw myself into the flame time and time again. With the hope ... of that blossom blooming to a full rose.