Those who diss it
Often wish it
Hide that they miss it
Deny they solicit.

It seems here
There streams a fear
In which dreams appear
To seem insincere.

Those who doubt love
Are not those without good
Might embrace it if they could
Who’s to say if they should.

For some who doubt it
Merely fear it
That they might love
And get nowhere near it.

For there is nothing more uninvited
Than a burning love unrequited
Nothing more entirely fearsome
To make the heart grow tired and wearisome.

Though when returned, there’s nothing more exciting
As refreshing as it can be blinding
Though when the time is right, it’s so enlightening
The kind of love, surely not worth fighting.

© Daniel Breslin