love

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 08, 2018

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Submitted: July 08, 2018

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I loved her because I needed her. I needed her to fill that empty space in me, that hole that lost hearts left behind. She made me feel a little less worthless, so I grew to need her, need her gentle words and loving touch to fill that space and make me feel whole. Her prescence was like a dam against a coursing river, like throwing sand into a sinkhole by the handful only to have it keep growing, constantly in need of more attention to stay afloat. She became my concrete, holding me together behind the stone wall of her embrace. I loved what she did. I loved how she made me feel. So I loved her. I loved her because she loved me and that seemed like a feat so immense it was unattainable, and weren't such feats deserving of love and adoration? In the Olympics of my heart she wore every medal, her name the only titleholder in the record books of my mind. We could have stayed forever, but medals grow dull and rust. Stone cracks. Books decay, lost to time like the names of ancients whose tales were written in forgotten languages, resigned to passing time's cruel embrace just as our love was doomed to be. She found a new river, a new fan to worship and love her endlessly, and I was lost to time, stardust drifting in space with nothing to form, nothing to cling to. And then I met you. There was no need at first. The sinkhole wasn't filled nor the dam restored and repaired, but something about you made that okay. We talked about everything, the most benign subjects suddenly becoming questions the universe itself had no idea how to ask, your words so foreign on the tongue of existence as you pondered the world. The way your eyes shone when we listened to a song you liked, the way you trusted me with conversations like single threads holding you over your deepest fears and wishes and everything you found beautiful about your life, all those threads tied around my fingers like forget-me-nots, threads of the beautiful tapestry of you. It has become so strange to me to think that anyone can pinpoint the exact moment they fell in love because when I think of you all I can think to say is that my love has always existed, for it was the collapsed universe that exploded into our own, for it is my soul surviving through countless eons and endless lives and an infinite number of eternities. And I know there was no start because how can something like this ever have a start or an end? How could my love ever be finite when it loves in the hearts of soulmates and survives for enternity in my poems I write at three AM, so moved by thoughts of you that sleep never holds any concern to me? When my pen scratches and races across the page, when I speak these words, how could I ever believe this to have an end? I've never needed you, my love, no, because need stops. I will no longer need air one day, nor will I need food nor water nor the sound of laughter in my ears. I love not because of need but because it just is, this ever existing calm in my soul when I see you smile, my very existence at peace when contemplating the color of your eyes. I love not for obligation but simply because I love, and I can never describe a love as strong as this. I can only list an army of soldiers in analogies and metaphors. I can only create similes that slip from my tongue like a calm stream. How could I ever explain, my love, when you make my existence infinite?


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