If there’s one thing I know
about pain—-push
through it,
unveil yourself,
remove the pall of consciousness,
a consciousness that keeps asking,
“Why do we love?”
when we are all
deeply unlovable—-
it must be an act
to distract ourselves from that fact

unlovable (adj.) – not inspiring or deserving love or affection

So when I ask you
to love me,
I really mean: “Will you
unlove me?”

It’s difficult to ask someone
to not love you though—-
it’s like an arduous challenge
to find every element of you
that doesn’t inspire
or deserve
or affection, yet
when I ask if you love me,
you say, “Yes, I love you so much”
when the answer should be nothing
but enmity—-
why aren’t you showing me
that I’m truly unlovable?

But don’t I
love you, too?
Isn’t that a form of failing
to unlove? Will you unlove me, & I’ll unlove you?

If there’s one thing I know
about pain,
it’s that in it,
you learn that you’re not

                    I love you.