Guard your heart and hope to die

There are approximately 7 photos of your boyfriend,
one being a large canvas print of a photo
you have on your wall already.

Stories of people meeting in an era of romantic uncertainty.
Love is dead because marriage is a piece of paper, right?
An app that shows your name, age, photos, and a 500 character profile,
deems your worth and ability to be loved.

You guard your heart and hope it dies,
that way rejection doesn't sting as badly.

we monetize people looking for love across the world,
judge them for putting hope into a heart out of reach,
and then we mock the fact that they got burned
as if we ourselves have never been hurt.

Is it truly a bad decision to put your faith in love?
What if we were born in the wrong place, the wrong time,
speak the wrong language, and see the wrong sky?

How else are we to meet the one destined for us?

We live in an era of romantic uncertainty.
I want to try, but I'm not sure I can take that plunge.

Haunting

A long time ago I spoke about love as a wraith.

A translucent spectre that appears and disappears,
whenever it wants.
I once spoke that it is not you who haunt me,
but it is I who haunt myself.

A torterous cycle, going round and round
back and forth between being content that we are apart
but missing something because we are apart.

I am haunted by the 3am's of loneliness,
the mixed signals from late nights together,
and then days upon days of silence.

We are no longer spectre's of love,
and yet there's a drop of jealousy in my heart
because im witnessing a friend play favorites.

There is no care in how you treat me.
I get an empty reply every once in a while,
and sometimes
I don't get a good morning until the sun has gone down.

How could you be busy when you're calling someone else everyday,
you barrage another with texts,
and our mutual chat has replies for someone else but never for me.

I'm hanted by unsure emotions,
conflicting feelings.
I'm tortured by uncertainties and mixed messages.

I don't wish to be your everything,
but that doesn't mean I don't want to be something.

The human heart is fickle, confusing, and irritating.

I want to be a friend.
But I'm treated like a side dish,
someone to be used when wanted and discarded when eaten.

It makes me question what I should do and the person I should be.

Should I care or should I not?
Should I confront or should I let it be?
Will I even like my answer if I ask?

A long time ago I spoke of love as a wraith,
but now I see who the true spectre is.
It is not love,
nor I or you,
but it is the heart that beats in my chest,
the humanity I live
the emotions I bear.

My wraith is a haunting of existence,
tortured by living and burdened by breathing.

Is there an exorcism for living?
An escape from feeling?
Some priest who can cleanse my body and soul,
from the finger prints cast by existence?

Is there a pill I can take, that wishes my emotions away?