Blindfolded

Love is blind when you don't really know what it is.
A beautiful bliss,
Or is that just a myth?
When you've truly found your person, What a gift.
It's a reciprocal language but, 
How can your heart be mine when I don't have one to give?
It still works, my heart beats to the same tune similar as sticks to a drum. 
But I can't hurt, it's difficult to explain emotions when your numb. 
It still lurks, for that missing piece to come.
Or will it ever be whole again? 
That's a rhetorical question.
Damaged & severely bandaged could've fed the world a dose of its own medicine 
They left her empty handed, She had morals so she chose to be a blessing.
A queen arising.
There's no surprising, the look in her eyes tells you she's got stories inside them.
Those same real eyes realize real lies, so save the lying.
Selling dreams? No thanks. She's not into buying.
Everyone seems the same, is love even worth trying?

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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