Just a dribble a drabble..

I don't believe in love, and love is most likely to not give a flying cow whether I believe or not in him.
I don't believe in love, and yet, I'm in love.
I despise love, and yet, this is love.
I don't know how to love, and still, I want but my feelings to be accepted.
I have no clue or idea as to what love is, but I'm sure this is it.
I don't want to have it, yet, it isn't leaving.
This is not care, lust or longing; any of those wouldn't make my chest ache the way it does, all of them or none of them at all wouldn't make me cry.
Being loved is a troublesome thing, being in love is a hopeless business and not being loved is the loneliest place of all.