Your Love

And it’s amazing to know that your love is the love that will make my heart bleed till the end of time. Nothing could ever replace a first love, except for maybe the last. Will you be my last? I may be old-fashioned in general, but this is my proposal to you. If I didn’t have a bum knee I’d be on it since 3 months ago. You left me speechless for oh-so-long, but now that you’re gone these words flow like blood. And I won’t let them scab. No, I won’t let them scab over. I’d rather this experience scar and stay with me forever, than heal nicely. You always forget what doesn’t leave a mark on you. And I want your mark on me as much as I want to forget what you’ve done to me. It’s just too damn beautiful to contemplate, because what I did to you was just too horrible in comparison. You are the yin to my yang, but what’s one to do without the other? The thought of a replacement causes my throat to constrict. I don’t want there to be anyone but you. But you don’t want anyone if they’re me, it seems. Time has become my worst enemy, the other woman. You need it more than you need my love, but I’m giving you both anyway. And I’ll continue to give, and you, my love, will continue to take it all until I’m left empty. And reminders of you are like a bad penny. Will they not cease? I love the letters of your name, carved deep into Formica tables. Is it a sign, or am I just being hopeless? Except that I’m full of false hope for the future. Because it’s amazing to know that your love is the love that will make my heart bleed till eternity. And that eternity will be spent in the hell of knowing that I pushed you too far away to be reached.