I’ve never been in love.

Not truthfully, at least.
Broken heart beats
flutter by
like Sparrows’ wings.

Quick
and fleeting.
Leaving you to reminisce
in their wake.

Each downward beat
of the wings,
and pump
of the chest
hold but weary reminders
of lessons learned past.

To be in love
is a lesson my heart
yearns to learn.

But books merely spout facts.
Tidbits;
of robotic truths.

Books give mere meaning in moments
temporary
and quickly fleeting.

They handle simple knowledge,
passed on
and forgotten.

Though still,
to be in love
is a lesson my heart yearns to learn.

But I suppose even Sparrows
can’t teach man
to sprout his
feathered,
lasting wings.

Featured Image by Bianca Wesalloo.