if we were born to Love

why is it so hard to find.

why must we beg for something

that is merely owed to us

they say don't chase

attract—

yet I seem to only attract yellow-black-bodied bees around me

they say Love is patient

Love is kind

yet its kindness has yet to extend

its hand toward me

as I ponder my fleeting time

wells of red-orange fire burn in my eyes

as I think of the one thing I need

if I was born to Love 

why has it not found me?