Love is not a thing I know how to make
It flows from me, encases like a cocoon
Hardened shell waiting for going slow
To become now
Until burst forth as chrysalis shatters
Though, truth be told, not much visible change had occurred
Rather rewrite the inside of my brain
No longer drowning in depression
Brain still sad
Eyes still crying at times
But not looking for a way out in the explosion of brain and teeth
Not looking to jump into the sharks mouth for one last thrill before the bite
Reworked change but of the heart and mind
And what may seem at odds
every body responds to different triggers
It’s easy to wallow in the flowers of touch bloomed ecstasy
But more, to discover each nerve, each pressure
To make of us a discovery
Revealing beauty
Exposing us bare
Pelgris 
At least you feel it. I fear some have not the capacity. 💓
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I think I’ve met a few. It’s hard to love so…needfuly
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Meaning hard to love with that much need? Yes perhaps. I don’t really k ow how to love without need but it may be the most healthy way if you can
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Meaning that I love hard and totally and with a all Consuming heart. Meaning it’s hard to be this way when others seemingly float or bounce along without a care or doubt.
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Ah. Then you’re as I am.
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Yes. I call it poets love. Though I know not all poets love this way. It just seems more common
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That’s really romantic
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Well, that’s me, 🙂
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