Kissing Fear…


There was a time when love looked at me and skipped along my life like stones off the surface of a lake.  I felt it, skipping over me…but never had the privilege of having it, or having it claim me.  Now at 34 I realize that I have had it wrong all along.  I spent a lifetime dressing love in clothing it could never fit.  The idea of love always so chivalrous, so romantic…so full of fanatic fantasy…a mental mirage…

 The way I dreamed love, the way I saw it was unreal.  I believed myself to be stronger than I thought; I believed I could handle love.  I truly believed that when I had it I became a Wonder Woman of sorts. With love, I believed I could carry two galaxies on my back, balance heaven on my fingers, carry justice to the stars…but how can I?

What kind of world do we live in when the one you love is not the one that loves you? 

He is the object of my affection, twice removed.  Someone else is ingesting the feeling he emulates; someone else is harvesting the fruits he has grown…someone is soaking up the sunshine that he has given, laying in the rays I emit from loving him.  God help me…I desire him, so much.  Silly me to try to project what I feel for him on another man…

No matter how metaphysical you are, the realization of your life will hit you like a ton of bricks…

 

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