OVERGROWN

 They say hate is love overgrown

Such distilled passion that it turns into resentment

Well, I think I'm breeding a vile monster under my bed

And the only thing to blame

Is my empathy

Empathy is a curse

It makes you let people disarm you

Dismantle you

eyes swollen

throat throbbing

head heavy

heart empty

Empathy allows people to take you apart

Drain your soul from your body

Until you are unrecognizable

Dismembered, disarmed, dismayed

So desensitized to your own pain that you feel numb

And empathy with overgrown love?

Well, it should be a form of antimatter

You see, I love like my heart is on fire

Like I am willed to want you

Compelled to be with you, loyal to you and only you

But I realize that I romanticize the potential my lover may foster

Paying no attention to what he says he is

And later on, as my love grows and his doesn't

I feel dissuaded, as all I have been doing was giving, and growing, yet nothing sprouts

So I say maybe it's me

And I disarm and dismantle, putting myself together differently

Like a Rubik's cube, using different techniques to gain perfection

Hoping, praying that I was the one on the wrong

That I was the one with the tainted love

Maybe I was the crack in the foundation

And with every change, I suffer a greater recovery

And maybe one day, I could change enough to be just right

The right amount of love and empathy and care, I thought

But then what?

What happens when I learn to accommodate everyone's needs

When I am constantly changing to feel wanted?

When I am finally in a form that makes me perfect in their eyes?

What's the reward for being a good lover?

A kind listener?

An empathetic partner?

Is there a prize I'm awarded?

A crown?

A throne?

An honor?

Something, anything?

Anything to convince me that it was all worth it?

That the monster under my bed that has been growing and breeding was worth something

Finally, if I chip off enough character and file off enough sass

If I add in enough obedience and do as I am asked

Maybe, someone, somewhere, will choose me

And love me

But they wouldn't be loving me now, would they?

They'd just be loving who they want me to be

And that, the empty love

Is the gift you get from giving yourself to love

I become the love overgrown

The monster I hid under my bed

And maybe it's just the lump in my throat

or the scars on my soul

But I fear the transformation may be irreversible