Crossroads
___

Love at first sight

Is a cliché, doomed from the start

When the object of that love bears no name

When its internal fire only inflames

To conquer another’s heart

That’s unknown

But for a time,

I called it love.

Distant from reality,

Wild and confused, it grew

Into a myopic fixation

Into an obsession

That bore a stranger’s face

This confession leaves a shame in me

But I chronicle its unmasked progression

Because it led me to a truth

That childhood needs, broken and unmet

Grown, often take what they can get

And they don’t care to recognize

From whom they want

Until that love, the object, is lost

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