my love. u
can’t even grasp
the depth of it. you
don’t know what it does
to me. you will never know.
you will never understand my
craving, my needs or my ways. or
what I must attain with this love. you
hate that i love. you hate the magnitude of
my love. you hate how my love challenges you.
you hate that you can’t love like i love. you hate how
it sends me into a dreamy state away from where you are.
you hate that it throws me into a raging melancholy, lost in it,
unable to function in your world, for days. you think it’s weird. lazy.
stupid. and just like the average person who gets told an uncomfortable
truth, you’ll attempt to destroy this loves purveyor. and you will be
mad with venom in doing this. you despise the books I read. u
loath my art. the things I write and the words I say. they’re
painful to you. you don’t know where I come up with
this stuff. you’ve never gazed in at your own soul,
let alone the eyes of one who is fixed with this
furious love. your love is scared of the dark,
my love rejoices in it. my love is rapture.
my love is daring. my love doesn’t
yield to security. my love is
free. your love is ruled. my
love feeds the world.
your love dies