Because love is as fickle an emotion as it is mighty. I can only hope, you love me. Love me back that is, as I have let my guard down. Also, because I have had enough of love, of the unrequited kind. That's good for only a fucking love poem. And not to keep alive. So, I can only hope that you love me. The real lasting bearable kind. Because love is like smoke in hot air, now it's here and now not anymore. Despite who I am, and despite who you be, the love in between has to simmer like a third person. Like a child. And it should be, no matter what you and I evolve to be. It may not be everlasting alrite, but it should last the decent span to sew together my broken heart and keep it that way or whatever. This may read like sleep talk, or gibberish. But aren't the stakes high enough. And this assurance I shall beg, no matter what. No matter who. I can only hope you love me. The real lasting bearable kind.
6 comments:
Oh fragility of love, THIS, is heartbreakingly beautiful!
Cheers,
Blasphemous Aesthete
</3 Thanks!
Beautiful and poignant. Yes, there are certain touches which hint at the sleep hanging heavily on the speaker's mind. But it also underscores the sheer honesty of this work.
And I find myself agreeing to every word. Although the idea of love tends to infect most of my written works, I am sick of holding on to a shell of what it once was for me. What was once ambrosial, is now a little short of poison.
Ah! Sorry for the rant. :P
On a concluding note, beautiful piece. I always adore your posts, mostly because I can relate too much to your penned stories/experiences.
The real lasting bearable kind.
Amen to that.
A realistic outlook of a fantasy..
Such a heartfelt post..took my breath away.. and straight from the heart may I say.
You were meant to be loved DM.
Any real man cannot help but love you.. A love that's pure and untainted.
.
.
I for one do, and always will, be it from afar.
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