Wary Are Thoughts of Love

Wary are my thoughts of love. I tread softly upon the thin ice of broken hearts. Too often have I cascaded between the cracks until now I fear I have so little left to give. Every wound, every scar from the slashing double edge sword of love has meant a slice of my heart forever lost. Each one a painful cut that never truly heals. Each one with a voice always lingering near the surface. Always striving to be heard. As a cool fall breeze bringing the sharp promise of winter, it shakes the leaves and trees sway before it. These sounds are always there but often we don't listen. I pause on my life path time to time. I step to the side and listen. The oldest deepest scars rumble from the dark hidden places they dwell. The fresh wounds, the deepest slashes scream to me in shrill tones that make me feel I'm on my knees, mouth agape screaming a silent lament no one can hear but myself. There is no one there to reach out to. No one to speak with. No hand to hold. No one to share my thoughts or comfort my fears. Sometimes while paused along the pathway, I reflect that I need my pain. For without it I could never appreciate the rare gifts of happiness I have. Balance. Without it I would have surly slipped neath the ice with silent cries falling upon deaf ears. What remains is just a spark of hope and a dream of true love. Perhaps a hope that is futile and reckless. A dream that is foolish and beyond my grasp forever. Its all I have. All that is left. The scars have demanded their sacrifices and my heart paid the price. Still I go on. Back on the life path once again. Maybe my hopes and dreams are somewhere beyond the far horizon, unseen and waiting to be discovered. So I take the steps towards the future on my pathway as the leaves rustle and the trees sway in the breeze. Only sometimes heard but forever there. And always, So wary are my thoughts of love.