Finding Love

Some of us look for love.
Some in the wrong places,
some at the wrong time.
Some don't find any at all.

He comes from a torn apart family,
constantly caught between distant parents,
a house; not a home.
His constant search for love -
Or perhaps a nurturing ground to find warmth and care,
once and again broken into shards of glass;
He swore that he'd never have his own family end up like the one he was born in.
Perhaps noone understood what it feels like to be battling alone
Against others,
against himself.
One after another, a serial monogamist?
He thinks not -
just that love came aknocking, one after another.
Truth is, who does he love?
All of them? None of them? Or maybe, just maybe,
Some of them.
Or has love become an emotional crutch,
for him to be able to give and receive love?
An age too young to ponder about the complications of life
Delves deep into the sea without knowing the depth
Cuts himself with broken bottles and stabs himself in the feet with each step on the rocky slabs

Do we find love? Or does love find us?