I might never fall in love and experience a kiss. I might never feel that special wind that comes along with bliss. I might not ever have my heart broken, or played like a toy, but I’ve still wondered is it better than the void? I cannot recall the last time I’ve had a crush, but I ensure it was mostly a bust. I might never get that one-on-one time or a date. I will never have to get worried or fear I might be late. I might never get to swim in this sea or experience this special light. I might never get to say, “I can’t wait for tonight.” I might never get to say, “He is the one,” or even think of what wrong I’ve done. I might never get to play this risk card, or play this safe. I might never get that warm tingly feeling inside, or even get to look at that someone’s special eyes. I might never get this gift we’ve been given, and see what is inside the box. I might never get to write in my diary what romantic thing I’ve done that night. Some say it is a blessing, because I couldn’t get in a fight. And maybe they are right...but maybe they are wrong. Maybe we might have been getting this whole love thing all wrong. We don’t realize how delicate and beautiful this flower is, instead we make it a noun, a verb, an adjective that is amiss. I might never get this chance to say, “I hope love comes my way.”