superego

i fell in love for the first time at 27. i was obsessed with the idea of love. i wanted it so badly i believed it was the reason for being alive. i wrote poems inspired by love, thinking it was my medium that i exercised love to in lieu of the man i hoped for. and now at 29 i have fallen out of love for the first time. and … i have little to say, other than “wow.” love is something you only experience while you are in it. it’s a private club in that sense. now, having lived love, i no longer idealize it. i see love for what it is. there is so much more to live for. but i wish i could go back to how i felt before this realization of heartbreak. i wish i lived for the thrill of it, but i don’t care about it. who will i let inconvenience me next?

There is only so much time in a day, only so much time that we have together. Whether I ruin what we have and this ends tomorrow, or this ends in two weeks, or, by the stroke of luck, we are together until our last hour, the time we have with one another will never be enough. When we die, we are placed into this Earth for far longer than we will ever live on it. Please, let me have the ability to make the most out of an hour as physically possible. Let me stretch our time for as long and as thin as it can manage. I know I will never be satisfied with the outcome, I’m sure I will always be left wanting more, but while it is in front of us, while we have one another, let us live and die in these hours of love.