“It is a frightening thought, that in one fraction of a moment you can fall in the kind of love that takes a lifetime to get over”Beau Taplin
In every one of my relationships I’ve found myself at an impasse. Do I continue to set myself on fire and burn to keep him warm, or do I leave him out in the cold to fend for himself while I gather the parts of me still recognizable and attempt to start a new life?
Why am I even asking myself this question? Why is this even a dilemma? Why do I place myself in a position where I have to make such shitty choices? I’m a smart girl. I have three degrees, a successful career. I’m responsible and reliable. But I know the answer. And I am not afraid to admit it. In fact I wrote a poem about it, called “Suicide”
There is no death more glorious,
Then at the hands of a man
who resolved to love only your body
and not your soul.
There is no hurt
that hurts so good.
A suicide mission indeed.
There is no chance of survival.
Death at his feet
He has ransacked my temple
and sauntered my womb.
I know what is coming
but I cannot bring myself to run away.
I am a fool
But your fool
Belonging only to you
What else is there in life?
To explain it means traveling to a far off distant place that is still very much alive. Our love lives there, and there it is pure and true. It is what was always meant to be. I live there in my mind. My heart follows, and my womb is along for the ride. It’s as if someone knows something but is afraid to tell me. And yes, I burn to keep him warm and our love alive. I don’t recommend this for just anyone. You must be incombustible. You must know every risk involved with a love so dangerous. You must understand that by setting yourself on fire you never know the calm of the ocean or the cleansing of the breeze.