Can I Find Love

I constantly search for it but it's enigmatical elusive, hidden in a Mona Lisa smile. Should I arm myself against self inflicted pains? Camouflage my feelings with insouciant emotions? For all my cirrhosis equivocal endeavors, I manage only to forge a jealous rift, until fragile truths bring sullen tears. For God is love, and love is truth. Had I misused it? Is that why I can't find it now? Yet they say that love is beautiful. Where does true beauty lie? All I find is veiled secrets, thinly disguised behind mirthful masks frivolously worn on carefree Valentine days. Should in dire despair give up?