He Loveth, Lost

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Hurt doth not lurk far, for I can see it waiting in the narrow distance, waiting for the sun to sink, waiting for me to close my eyes. Am I in love, or in pain? Am I running after what I want or am I running away from it?
My heart has become dusty and empty due to disuse. I do not know if I am going to gather my stand ever again.
Those I loved are the ones I lost. Those I wanted to keep are the ones I have let go of. 

Maybe I should have thought about the price I was set to pay, but the minutes and hours slipped by me like water in a sieve. My defenses were low when she attacked, and she claimed me in all my being.
I was never meant for love, and love was never meant for me. We met on the hill, one going up and another going down, so I turned and walked backward with her.
We were but two strangers who met, one with desire and need, and another with much to give. 
When we consummated our union, we became one with the curse, the hex that assails, that leaves one high and dry.
If love were some sort of package, I would tie a grindstone around it and dump it into the sea, but it is a poison that resides deep inside, eating me deep bit by bit, glorying in my laments, taking pride in my suffering.
I am but the hapless victim surviving with the machinations of what I cannot control.
I am but one with silent lips, praying for the end of my day, for the end of my life, for the end of my torture.

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