loving/being in love
when I met him
I saw more than a person; I saw a
concept, an idea. & with this idea
came so many others, a stormcloud of thoughts followed by
a sunshine of fantasies. what I mean to say is that
he was my rainbow, but only for
a short time. I was impatient; I did not wait
to know him, all I knew was the pursuit
& it took too long for me to
give up. when I did, I discovered that
I had never met the boy I loved.
I was gazing through a window
without entering. I had found a beautiful idea
and decided that it should be mine, without asking
why. & for a while it blossomed,
but then he was gone,
& so was
being in love.
I told myself this time I wouldn't. told myself
maybe I couldn't. maybe once was too much for someone
so young & so weak. but I couldn't help it, everything was colorless
without him, I needed more than a concept.
(you cannot dream
without some[one] to dream about).
and just as I had begun to think this,
I turned around and noticed you, almost for the
first time. & I felt that leap, it was familiar, it was different
than before. It came too soon, I had fallen for you
without meaning to. & it was more than the colorful
splashes of love, it changed me, made me look in the mirror
differently. what I mean to say is that you were the sun.
even though some days you refused to shine on me
I knew you were still somewhere, shining. and I absorbed all the light
I could, knowing I could not keep you, knowing
we were not meant for each other. but being in love
means being dedicated to more than just an
idea. so when you told me that you could not
love me, I continued searching for light,
even in the
if i could exist in a thousand lifetimes and live a thousand different lives, i would find you in each one and love you in a million different ways the broken pieces of my heart would allow.
Youth, hopefully for most, was when you feared all the wrong things for all the right reasons.
Being young feels like jumping off a rock into the iridescent water, the adrenline masking the threat of the inevitability of death.
There is no glory in the words spoken with a glittered tongue.