Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Love III

(How can I control my life if I can't even control my hair.)

Love II
(Disclaimer: Fictitious characters. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.)

It becomes an apology: I am sorry, I love you. It turns into an excuse: Because I love you. Then it is a shield: Don't hate me, I love you.

It isn't laid out like a book. It cannot be held, and there are no pages to flip. My right hand has nothing to hold, nothing that gets thinner and thinner so I know the end is near. We were arguing. Self righteous and angry, I was choked with tears. This heat, this loudness, this intensity. I was being unreasonable and demanding. This was the moment you were supposed to defend yourself. This was the moment you were supposed to take your suitcase and this was the moment I was supposed to take the blame. But this was the wrong script. You were gazing at me and I was embarrassed by the look of love on your face. Love. It's forgiveness, it's patience, it's second chances.

I thought of love as romantic and impressionable. I thought of love as a paradisiacal bed of roses. But I know it does not just fix things; it does something better. It gives me courage and strength. In return I give everything I can, and try to give everything I cannot. Nothing seems as much without you. Even beauty does not hold well if I do not witness it with you. I see something sublime and I think of you. I share my biggest triumphs and my most embarrassing flaws with you. I tell you about my awful days and you share yours with me.

You are the lighthouse of my universe. You illuminate. You make everything more.

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