Hollow

When was the last time we loved unconditionally? Held hands and felt the warmth without any need for words?

Lucky are those who choose to love. Luckier are the ones chosen by love.

Why is it that we fear "falling" in Love? Afraid of the heartbreak or afraid of commitment?

In an age where Love has become a luxury, we all are afraid of the naked truth, so much so that we seek cover from our expensive suit.

Love, they say, is affection. It's pure. Well, then why does it seek more?

More of control, more of uncertainty, more of treacherous thoughts.

When some versions of Love do seek those, is it too late to apprehend that it ain't Love at all?

When it ain't, what else is it? Or is it really anything at all?

When we can't conceive Love, aren't we all a little too Hollow?

Maybe, a little more than we already know?