I wish I was fond of love,
which diminishes their value,
Of people who did not leave their side,
when lovers were totally untrue
I wish I was fond of love,
which makes a grandiose appearance,
and leaves ones heart empty,
Unawares of its riveted arrogance
I wish I was fond of love,
which limits itself in a form,
which makes one believe only in gaining,
where manipulation is the norm
I wish I was fond of love,
which revels in grandiose existence,
where most seem like doing the world a favour,
creating in guise, other humans with persistence
I wish I was fond of love,
the idea of which lasts forever,
but in its quest to be complete,
is treasured in moments, never
I wish I was fond of love,
in which lovers are able to hate after they depart,
in which replacing someone is a sport,
in which filling a void comes naturally,
and in which pettiness becomes the tradition
I wish I was fond of love,
which doesn’t realize the gold of fleeting moments,
which doesn’t know that it makes the heart grow,
which falls in the feet of fate so easily,
which grows cold as it snows
I wish I was fond of love,
which they speak about aloud,
which they think about day and night,
and which dissipates slowly from the heart,
at the mere thought of inveterate incapability