Thursday, August 14, 2008 12:26:30 PM
Hair tousled, no effort wasted.
While that piercing sapphire gaze commands,
Choose me. Love me.
And, oh, I do.
Can you tell me it’s not love,
Just because I have never met him,
Never had a conversation,
Never been anywhere near him?
Because I can’t touch him,
Can’t hold him,
Can’t comfort him when things go wrong?
Does love have requirements?
Don’t tell me these other things--
Infatuation, idolization, obsession!
-- and proceed to tell me that they describe what I feel.
You can’t squeeze my feelings into one of your perfectly labeled boxes and call it the same as everyone else’s.
If you say that I don’t love,
Then can you tell me you do?
And how does it feel?
My love is as real as any other.
Not just a figment of my imagination.
This is my heart
and it loves.