An Eternal Delicacy

and this delicate taste will follow your soul for eternity

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one moment.

it was one moment. one moment when i had the choice. when i had the choice of loving you or not, and i let that moment slip me by. because i am stupid. because i am dumb. because even when it came down to it, i probably would have chosen to love you anyway. but i would have liked to have that moment of choice. before i gave my heart to you randomly and undeservedly. you didnt deserve my love then and you do not deserve my love now. why cant i be one of those girls who falls for the nice guy? the guy who actually likes her back, rather than stringing her along like a fishing line caught on a splinter in the pier. why cant i have chosen someone who saw me and truly appreciated me? why did i have to go ahead and choose you. beautiful, horrid, narcissistic, egotistical, perfectly matched to me, you. because you cant choose love. clearly. and i was stupid to think that maybe something would go right; that the wasted love before you would fall in place with you. but i was wrong. im always wrong. nothing fell into place with you. everything fell out of place. my heart broke, and now i cant seem to find the pieces to put it back together again. but i think i may have found someone. and truthfully, the thought actually scares me. because its always been you, cliché i know. but it has. it has always been you. i have never had these thoughts about anyone else. about loving them and kissing them and lying in bed and hugging them. not that we ever did that because that was forbidden to me. but still, i desperately wanted to and now, i dont want to as much, because i have potentially found someone else who i want to do those things with. but its scary because it has always been you and now it might not be and it is strange and new and unreal and exciting and terrifying all at the same time.

Filed under one moment love heart poem blog poet poetry i love you truth beauty

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Love.

And so that’s where it began. Where it all started, but essentially, where it all finished. Where the time when I could think about myself, the time when I could think about what I wished to think about, the time where I had control over me and the thoughts and emotions I possessed as a human being all ended.

I drank a bottle of him, without my knowledge of it, I drank every drop, and his drink, his taste, his presence engulfed my own and that’s when it stopped.

I was like a cut, like a cut that oozed and bled until someone is forced to place a bandaid on it, even though they know bandaids never really help anyway.

Like a scar 100 years old that someone has sliced through again and again until it was fresh.

Like someone had bought fresh apples and then forgot about them, letting them fester in the basement for years until the basement crawled with bugs and maggots; engulfing the floor, the ceiling, every inch of that tiny space.

Like a dog that had ripped up those delicate but stable flowers in that precious bed that someone had spent hours protecting from the petty bug, from the petty weeds, but that no-one could protect from the naughty dog, even though you know you will forgive him, because he is beautiful and he is, after all, your one and only companion in the world.

Like a piece of cheese, with that one huge whole right in the middle, that always makes that sandwich you prepared taste that much blander.

Like that one firework that makes everyone go ‘AH!’, because it is so beautiful that not even the most cold hearted person could ignore, the firework is just the one thing that is simple and doesn’t require thought and deliberation, it’s just there, striking you with it’s beauty and then it is gone, and you wait until the next year to see it again.

Like a walk in the middle of the night when the rest of the world is silent and you feel like the moon is the one friend you can rely on, the one friend that you can tell everything to, without worrying whether she will blab and ruin your fragile relationship with the one person you could see yourself with, not worrying whether she will judge you, not having to lie to make yourself look better, and without worrying whether or not she will see or treat you any different after you tell her.

But it’s also like that feeling you get when you hold a baby for the first time, the overwhelming delicacy and beauty of it all.

Like buying your first pet, knowing you will love it so much more than you did when you saw it in the shop window for the first time.

Like buying your first house, the pride you feel in the accomplishment of yourself.

But most of all, it is like loving somebody for the first time, loving somebody so much that it takes up all of that little space in your chest called your heart.

Most of all it is like how I love you, unconditionally and unreservedly, bearing my heart, with it’s scars and rips and bandaids, for you, just for you, and hoping that you will see past the exterior and put your arms around that soft, delicate and beautiful centre of me.

Filed under love blog poem poetry poet delicate beautiful pretty girl