Why?

My heart splits in two as she asks me why.
Not where, not when, not how, but why.

The question wars are fought over,
the unanswerable, unachievable, unreachable goal;
the why is the unattainable search for meaning
that always seems so simple to ask, yet never complicated enough to answer.

How could you break my heart?
Simply answered, "with relative ease and slight hesitation."
Harsh? Yes, truthful? Maybe,
Answered? Essentially, yes.

But why, why I cannot explain.
Why not? I don't understand it myself.

Why do I love you?
Well, I love you because when I'm with you, my life is better.
With a moment's gaze into your eyes, I find myself closer to eternal happiness.
And only the thought of losing you brings tears to my eyes.

But, no, you didn't ask what makes me love you...
you didn't ask for me to describe the feelings you make me feel...
you never asked for how, when, or what I love about you.
You asked why.

Truth be told, I don't know why.
I don't know why I love you, I don't understand my love, or love in general.
I get how to show it, what it feels like, where it's generated,
but I just don't get why.

So stop asking me why, unless you may enlighten me.
But truth be told, I don't even want to know why you love me.
I'll take the mystery, I'll take your word for it.
And be happy that with every smile or embrace, I'll know strongly enough that you love me.
Cause just knowing that you love me is more than enough for me.