What is love

I close my eyes and whisper your name. Having sprayed your cologne on my pillow, sometimes it eases the pain.

How I hate myself for loving you, knowing that I really never had you. I realize the game, I am aware of how it is played.

I can ignore the broken heart, I can distract myself with other things but I cannot erase the memories of all the places we have been.

A stab, a prick, torn apart. The memories are relentless, abusive and abrasive. Mocking me, taunting me, a reminder of all you did.

I am angry at myself, at you and at a heart that is unconditional. I am sad for you, for me, for having been defeated by my own love for someone proven unworthy.

Not the first. I know how the game is played. I am sure it will be played again. A new cast, a new script that changes day, by day.

I have seen beyond the words that defined what I thought we were once all about.

So tell me, what is love?