It is more like loving no one
than it is like loving everything
more like kissing air
than inhaling, than exhaling,
more like emptying my stomach
in order to choke you out
This singular answer
which pains me as much
as it cleanses, I do not expect
to be forgiven anymore,
and these days I sweat more than
I chance to hope, have faith
more than I bother to see,
love you more than this vacancy
on my face even comes close to,
because loving you is for the most part
more filling than eating
more breaking than crashing
this god damn car. It was never
about love until love
had to be so selfish
about things. It was never
about you till I realized
it was never really
about anything else.
Author notes
This strange poem was written Feb. 14, 2008.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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this is good, a little confusing but good just the same.
keep writting
--blessed be--
Shacadia Shay
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