Posts tagged with "love"

The Honeymoon Is Over

Angel I can see myself in your eyes
Angel won’t you feel for me from your heart
Do return my heart to me
No don’t insist I’m already hurt

— Blonde Redhead, Elephant Woman

Yep. It’s over. Although she still does­n’t know.

Maybe it was just a phase. Maybe I’ve accept­ed the fact that she’s tak­en. Maybe we’re too sim­i­lar. Maybe I’ve real­ized it would nev­er work. Maybe I just love her less, the more I know her.

Or maybe it was just a phase. One of the many things cured by time.

It makes me won­der if I cling to such feel­ings sim­ply because I love being in love, unre­quit­ed or oth­er­wise. It’s like when you’re in a pure­ly phys­i­cal rela­tion­ship with some­one, and you start get­ting feel­ings for them. You won­der if you’re real­ly in love with the per­son, or in love with the idea that you have some­one with whom to go to bed, some­one to kiss and kiss you back. It’s a blur­ry line, some­thing you don’t fig­ure out until you remove your­self from the sit­u­a­tion.

Not that it mat­ters. I’m over her.

And I’ve lost my inspi­ra­tion.

A Difference of Love

“Love does­n’t end, just because we don’t see each oth­er.”, she told him

“Doesn’t it?”, he asked.

“People go on lov­ing God, don’t they? All their lives. Without see­ing Him.”

“That’s not my kind of love.”

I real­ize that on days like this — when the wind is cut­ting through the seams of my jack­et, when my stom­ach is so cramped that it twitch­es, when I’m uncon­trol­lably nod­ding off to sleep on the bus, when my trans­fer expires before I can use it, when incom­pe­tence isn’t keep­ing my appoint­ments — that I can’t call you. It just would­n’t help.

You aban­doned me when I need­ed you the most. I’ll nev­er trust you with any­thing impor­tant again. Including me.

You may say you love me, but I don’t love you. Not any­more.

This is how I real­ize that love is defined dif­fer­ent­ly by dif­fer­ent peo­ple.

My love is (was) bound­less.

Yours is of con­ve­nience.

Revealing Vulnerability

In my book tonight, I was remind­ed of the time I was sit­ting on the floor of my room and you were lying on the bed when I felt the foun­da­tion shud­der beneath me. I mapped the escape route in my head, thought of the coats cause it was the end of win­ter, and was about to grab your hand to lead us out­side if the earth shook again, threat­en­ing to bury us in three sto­ries of wood and con­crete. I told you to be ready to run upstairs on my word. How I loved you then.

And I real­ized that I can write about it until my fin­gers are sore, I can think about it into the ear­ly hours of the morn­ing, but I can’t tell you how much you hurt me.

For in doing so, I reveal my vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty.

A Test Of Love

So I delet­ed your num­bers off my speed dial. I took down your pic­tures. It was an in-the-moment thing.

I’m calm now, see­ing things objec­tive­ly, yet still unde­cid­ed.

Part of me wants to believe we can still be friends. That we can still hang out with­out me depend­ing on you for any­thing. But I’m not like that, and I don’t stay friends with those on whom I can’t depend.

I put aside my issues for my friends, and I need­ed you to do the same for me.

I cried, not only because you weren’t there when I need­ed you, not only because you had a respon­si­bil­i­ty to my friends as well, but because I nev­er allow those who hurt me so much to be a part of my life. Our friend­ship may be lost, and this is what upsets me the most. Perhaps it hurts so much because you were so impor­tant to me. I don’t want to lose that, but I’ll nev­er for­get what you did and I’ll nev­er trust you again.

And if I can for­give you, you’ll know that I tru­ly love you.

i love you but i don't know you

i felt dis­con­nect­ed all day. dis­tant. dis­joint­ed. anoth­er bee in the hive. i don’t know why.

when i stepped out­side get­ting off work, it was grey, breezy, devoid of sun­shine.

the bass in my ears moved me. dri­ving the beat of my heart. walk­ing my feet.

the sun slow­ly came out, mixed bit­ter­sweet with the clouds.

and then you showed up. black and white across the street.

i kept my head down as you walked by, care­ful not to ruin that per­fect image in my head. it was enough to keep me going. to make me smile when the most i could feel all day was neu­tral.

i love you but i don’t know you.