Oobleck

The inconsolable soliloquy
Of unrequited desire
Seemingly infinite in its destructive scope, is
Yet meticulously precise with
Nostalgic resonance.

It is a strange twist
That such devoted focus on
Another
So often becomes
A most viral
And corruptive force of
Purely narcissistic
Ends.

That I would look on
The shape of another's
Character
And only see the missing piece of
My own puzzle
Is not Love,
Though for some accursed  reason
We keep calling it so.

No,
Love is a non-Newtonian fluid,
And as such, when forced,
Will put up such a sternly determined and
Dedicated opposition
As to rival and perhaps even mimic or become that
of hate's great walls.

However,
With time, patience,
A gentle hand, a listening ear, and
Some subtle skill,
There is a welcoming gesture
To be found
In Love,
As that given unto a
Long-awaited friend.

Love can love the builder of a wall,
But Love will not break through that wall,
Save for the builder taking it down
Brick by stubborn brick
In purposeful reply
To Love's whispered beckoning
From across the other side.

So
Love loud but not in yelling.
Love strong but not in forcing.
Love fully but not in possessing.
And
Love recklessly but not in ignorance.
Love fearlessly but not without trembling.

For it is dangerous to try and
Walk this road alone, but
It is far more dangerous
To forget that
We don't have to.

(And that inconsolable soliloquy
Is perhaps your line
In a much broader chorus.)