Casualty of Love. 

Yes,
I believe in love
even
when i cannot see it, even
when it fails me,
even
in those moments when it is ripped
out of my chest – a casualty of wars
that are not my own.

I believe in love,
not because I am wise in it,
for I have never been wise, it seems.
I love stupidly
like a child,
too innocently to be trusted
with anything
as precious as love.

So let me wrap my wounds
before they fester,
before they turn dark and fatal.
Let me pour the salve of God on them
and hope he understands
the all too human frailty
of someone so simple
that he insists
on believing in love.