Holding hands with love

We've been trying for too long. Every time we drift we're forcing what is wrong. I am taking sight. Don't hold this war in time.

I've grown to love blank pages - they're free and hold no boundaries I can't exceed.

Love is thought out to be infatuated and hated all the more, but I appreciate its worth within the walls I am confined. I laugh because I call this Aurora. So much hate, it seems I'm drama prone. But I know I don't walk through it alone.
It's a mystery - we feel we know love's ethics, but I must confess I do not. I feel I've never truly loved anything, but I wish to break free from this box I am imprisoned. With me it's been trial and error, lying to my heart and convincing infatuation. This is all against the rules I cannot help but break. How do I abide? I keep trying, hoping for success. I apologize to those I've hurt along the way.
I used to see love as a ghost, and it seems I still do. It will jump my nerves, and cause me to dive in from a board when I wasn't ready. I was waiting for love to find me and gently hold my hand, but it scared me in stead. Do I agree with this tactic? Absolutely not.
As a human I search for security concerning risk, it being even more risky involving one other. Besides me love tries to one up it, and again, I cannot say I agree. And maybe that's the problem within my relationship with love - we cannot find fit circumstances to match our wants and needs. I just want it to bend down, take my hand, and lead me through the battlefield. I want love to guide my heart, but to me it seems love is greedy and has no patience - this is where things go terribly wrong, causing dread and regret within my conscience. Another heart I hug, then squeeze, then slam.
I don't know where I can find an axis of symmetry, a turning point within my downfall. So much I wish to run away from it, I never realize I run from risk without even thinking - without a sense of confrontation.
Kisses and missing you, happiness and content. Heart breaking concepts and fatal mistakes - it's all a combination within the word love - a feeling I wish so much to be the truth, though I cannot understand it. I just wish to smile and hold its hand, but it's harder than I had thought. Maybe it's the concept that with losing so much I cannot be open to the idea. I just can't. I step back and forth over the line, but I can't fully commit. I envy those who are able.
It's a black sea I stand above, the size of the universe it is, and my platform an abyss. The misty air surrounds me in comfort, and the sea below me appears freezing and dark and a fatal possibility. Dark waves crash against the rigid rocks, and I shiver down to my freezing bones within the thought of jumping. Spirit ceases to guide me, I feel it knows this is something to live through and learn myself.
Forever is a long time and time I do hold within my hands, but it's a questionable concept and a matter of my wants and of patience. I know there are those willing to give - ready to jump from their own abyss. It's something I appreciate but do not understand. This is what scares me out of infatuation the most. To know why I do not, it's a mystery within the black sea. I cannot say I'm yet ready to dive in.
Maybe I'm willing to wade in shallow waters, where maybe the sun clears the infamous darkness. The question is if I will take the risk, but faced with confrontation the decision isn't true within my heart. Maybe it's a pure aspect of regret, hating the feeling and matching the physical to the unstable mentality, and then I seek to regret. Later I will still question, then try again. I apologize for my trial and error tactics, but I guess that's the way love within life goes. I'll be the short end of the stick at one point or another, I'm sure, as I feel I already am within the boundaries of myself.
Like a fire, the wood burns and then crashes, summing up to ashes - played with and mangled, but I'll be the angel. Somewhere in the mix I'll be picking up my ashes, replanting the seed for a tree to grow and comfort me. Make them back into wood to burn and we'll do it again, hoping ties will never sever, never something I'm obligated to mend. Hoping sparks will ignite with the flames, never burning down to their very grains. Hoping to feel and seeking to see,
Maybe, maybe, maybe.