Love is like sand.

Love is like sand.

 It slips through my fingers.
 Every time I try to hold it.
But I can always burry my hands in that sand for more.
It's never depleted.
Love doesn't want to be held.
Ever-elusive, like the sand.
It's insatiable, it's forlorn,
Since my childhood, it stayed hidden away from me.
Even now I am older, it's playing the same old games.
Tricking me into believing that it is real.
But it's not. I am clever.
Or maybe not.
If I fall again for love,
Or that mist in someone else's eye,
Ever-elusive, a lie,
I'll be damned.
But I do.
I fall.
And I curse myself for falling.
Because falling is not the worst part.
Not getting up back again is.
Not learning - is.