Opposites Attract?

Love and hate, truth and lies, life and death, incredibly, inexorably and undeniably linked. They say that opposites attract, but in reality, opposites are exactly the same thing. Two sides of one coin. In my world, it's all one thing. Nobody has the time to listen, to talk, to repeat things that have happened. And no-one can accept the blame for anything that happens, no matter what.
And so life goes on. And death continues to hold its hand over my heat and my mind. And people become less friendly, more willing to hate than to love. Is this natural? Is it real?
I find my time to love comes when no-one is around, a heart battered by a world full of hate melting away into the strong arms of one such stranger like me, someone afraid to feel, love, hurt. A stranger, in a world full of distrust where no-one knows anybody, nobody can never really know anyone else.
I find myself in his arms each night, weeping. His gentle embrace, a soft touch that fills my heart with warmth, tells me all I need to know, I'm in love.
Love is dangerous, filling our hearts with trust, and in my world, trust cannot be safe, cannot be loved and enjoyed. There's a danger about trust, those whom you trust can hurt you more each day, until sometimes you wish you were dead. Such is the danger in my world.
But with him, I feel safe, loved. There's a magic in his eyes, a sparkle that shimmers like the jewels of life, and a warmth so strong in his smile that even I cannot hide from it, cannot hide away with my fears.
It wasn't that I didn't love him, rather that I did that was the problem. Who he was, I could never tell you, but I would know him by sight. There's something unforgettable about the person that you love, a deep bond that cannot be broken.
It was about two weeks later when I next saw him, a fleeting glance from a great distance, and my heart already felt like it could break, crack in two like an egg and pour out my soul.
I wished I hadn't seen him, seen what happened next. The tears that streamed down my face in rivers then well up inside my heart now, ready to spill over the top and stream again, they're there, always there inside me, waiting, waiting to be set free.
I watched as men, garbed in black, took him away. I watched as they beat him, great black and blue bruises swelling immediately from the pain. I couldn't watch as they took out a gun, but I could not block my ears. A loud bang, and I fell, pain filling my heart and soul. I live. I was not injured, not this time. In this world though, injury hovers nearby and waits for you to walk underneath it.

It's said that when your heart stops, you die, but I know it not to be true, for I have a broken heart, unable to beat properly, but yet still sustaining me, that proves it.