Conditional Love

Words lost their meaning but never their power in this house of mine.

Is love just temporary happiness?

Or is this simply the only way I’ve known love?

Peace was always a luxury.

And silence was always absent when it really mattered.

They had the talent to talk about everything —

except what really hurt.

Their love I never doubted,

but their way of loving was as flawed as they were.

Like a crown, their words carried weight that was never theirs.

Their words were meant to hurt — and they did.

But their silence was always their deadliest weapon.

I never knew if it was intentional or not,

but like an heirloom, they knew how to use it.

Blaming them? How could I?

Just like me, they were ten years old once too —

kids hurt by people.

And hurt people hurt people,

even when they don’t want to.

There were too many of them.

Some were better than others.

Some loved you. Others tried.

But their love was full of hidden conditions.

I’ve learned that maybe it’s never really about quantity —

but quality.

And that maybe their conditional love

was the only way they knew how to love.

So, for those who don’t know how to love —

First, learn how to talk.

Because real love starts

when you know how to talk to someone’s soul —

not scream in their head.

For love is always haunting,

but never about hunting.