Sometimes I feel as if the choices I make are all predicated on the choices of others.
That despite my so called autonomy, I am waiting. Sometimes I wish that others would act as I do. Would see my heart resonant as I see theirs and say you. I want you.
I would move the heavens for such a person. But until that day there is me, feeling this
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEzRXjg1rYE
When the nightmares begin
I’m your one and only sin
Dream with me, I’m all in
Love is not for the faint of heart
I tell you this from the start
It’s so hard we often fall apart
But I tell you that when the nightmares begin
I’m your one and only sin
Dream with me, I’m all in
I’m not walking away
I’ll be here till my dying day
I’ll be the one who stays
And when the nightmares begin
I’m your one and only sin
Dream with me, I’m all in
Dream with me, I’m all in
I’ve heard it said that the benchmark for love is whether or not you would die for someone.
It’s not. Death is Easy. We all do it. It’s going to happen.
No, the benchmark for love is whether or not you will live for someone.
Will you wake each day with the intention that today you will be as good to them as when you were courting. As when you were dating. As when you first saw them blush with their body. As when you first touched and your heart sped up a little.
Love is a emotion, yes. But in a relationship, it’s also a choice. The choice to love completely. To not allow all of the noise and fury of this chaotic, beautiful, mad world we live in, to not allow it to take over and intrude where it is not welcome.
But, people call me crazy for opening my heart so wide. And I won’t pretend that I have not been hurt. But, if I allow that pain to make my choices for me then I am not living. I am hiding.
I choose to not hide. To not be ruled by pain. By fear. I may not always know the way. But I know that love is my guide
I’m nuts
Completely crazy
I love hard
I love freely
I love with everything that I am
If I give my word, I keep it
I’m told that makes me different
I’m told that makes me crazy
Sanity at the price of love and honor
I will never pay that price
If I be alone forever
As terrifying as that is
I will
NEVER
Pay
That
Price.
We all sit in this stasis
Just wondering what our place is
Waking up we wonder
When will what we built, be plowed under
We’re treading water
Waiting to be reborn
But rebirth is painful
It’s not shameful
To cry our tears
To build up from our fears
We live by forgetting
Let’s change the venue
Change the setting
We’re all just healing
Our broken hearts reeling
But we hold each other up
Our hands around hearts are cupped
Keeping that blood
from spilling
out
Love is the journey
Make no mistake
Without it we’re burning
I’m a Sir not a master
I’ve helped others through disaster
Build you up to set you free
Maybe, someday, that’ll be me
If I could be but memory
Or shadowed kiss
Bend sympathy
Slink slow across nerve endings
Spark lightning
Make each moment last
Our futures unwritten
We’ll write it together
My heart
is full to bursting
My lady faire
she makes it so
I hate loving as I do. It seems a form of madness to see this crack in someone’s facade and for the briefest instant see who they are, who they might be. Then to fall in love with them. It’s crazy. Everyone says, experts, psychologists, philosophers, etc. Everyone says love takes awhile to form. But for me, that only happens if I’m actively impeding it or if I sense something…off.
Otherwise the fall is inevitable. So yes I hate loving in this way because when I’m not with someone, I pine. I pine for all whom I love but am not with. Who say that “I mean so much or If only this or that.” And I rail against this cage of almost but not quite and shout “Why not!”
While I may accept the choices of others, because I must, I do not agree. Better to allow love to bloom in fullness, to throw yourself into it completely, to dance in its madness and delirious joy than to hold back and be safe or wait for more opportune times.
There is no perfect time. No mythical place where it’s easy. No set of actions that make life easy. But love, the luxury we have.
To not choose love is a blasphemy to me. A thing profane.
We live in a time and place where love can be chosen. Where who you are with is not dictated solely by economics and opportunity. We are not limited by social circle, physical location, or class. We get to choose.
How can the choice not be love? How can comfort be more important than the chance at joy? All the comfort in the world cannot make up for a lack, for the heartache, the silent loneliness.
That moment when my heart sped up, when you put your head to my chest, was love. Some would say it’s sex, but I say “Bah, boring.” Sex without emotion is empty. It’s the equivalent of eating candy. As compared to a meal of complexity and satisfaction.
Look me in the eye and tell me you are happy with your life. That your days all sit in the band between content and joy. And if not, define and discover why not.
If I am not the choice that brings you to the place of joy, then I implore, find it. Find love. Don’t just accept, strive. Don’t just survive, live. I don’t care if it’s with me, though I would prefer it. Choose love. Not just the love that is really like. Choose to exist in a state of love. It’s better than the alternatives. Even if it is fucking painful.
I see the spark of you
The hidden piece shining brightly
Pulsing with energetic light
This piece of life
It casts itself over all that you are
How can I see this and not fall a bit in love?
Am I to hide my feelings because they emerge before you are ready to hear them?
Am I to cringe back and deny what I see because I cry out to the heavens and this makes you uncomfortable?
I love the you that you are, as you are.
Am I to hide that behind like and lust?
It’s too soon they say.
But they don’t see what I see.
You are right, it’s too soon to know the totality of you.
But too soon to see enough to love?
To embrace discovery and beauty?
Why live that way?
Hiding, hoping not to get hurt.
I’d be lying if I said that my love has not destroyed me, crippled me.
But through destruction, we grow.
Through pain we are forged.
And at the end of it all, better to break for love than it’s lack.
Pelgris 