False Pretense

Why do we pretend to not long for the heart of another? Why do we let people we want to let into our world, stay on the other side of the glass? Why do we overthink the little notes that Cupid plays when we see them? Why do we withhold the flowers we picked for them? Why do we pretend that love is dead, when it's the one other thing that makes humans feel alive? Why do we feel that a concept is all it is? That there's no way that our better half lies in someone else? That someone else could helps us find the missing piece of our puzzle? That maybe a bleeding heart can be mended again? That scarred hands can craft masterpieces? That a dying canary can sing a melodic piece? That a frayed instrument can play again? That broken things still have value? Why do we believe fairy tales are just that? Pieces of fiction used to sell a point But what if the point they're trying to sell is that the magic of it all isn't a spell That love doesn't come from throwing a penny down a wishing well But it's from trying and putting yourself out there Even when your heart is battered and bruised Even when your eyes no longer can produce tears After crying over a love that no longer exists Even when your soul is in dismay Why not just take the gamble And try once more?