I don’t often write of love.

I don’t often write of love.
Sure, I may occasionally pen
Directed as a suggestion, more so than a profession. Yet, who am I to suggest such a thing? For I, myself know not what it means.
Sure, I’m familiar with the term, have used it broadly in exclamation of intensity, but what confusion simply using one word can often bring. I am a mother, a grand one at that. No, not a boast, I’m just that old. My love for these beings is undoubtedly the most intense I’ve experienced. Yes, I know I’d lift a car if one happened to be between me and the moment of ones life and death. This love, is without question. But upon reflection, would I find such strength, such a will within myself, to lift said burden from crushing me? History has proven to me, no. Now that’s not to say that my future reads as bleak, not admitting I find myself unworthy, it’s simply reminding myself that’s it’s only me, that will ever stop me from feeling truly worthy, of love.
I love to write of lust! The thrusts of such carnal toe curling throes, flows so easily from my pen. Again, I wonder if it’s because I feel safer with the boundary that using the word ‘lust’ over ‘love’ implies.
To be totally truthful, ‘love’ scares the absolute fuck out of me.
That single moment of undeniable vulnerability simultaneously makes me ache in yearning to taste, and hide my heart away… in aid of what, keeping it safe? Love of ones Self, is no doubt my life’s goal. Well, a challenge so far, but a goal none the less… Love of and for another, that love that has kept the hands and hearts of poets occupied for eons of time, and will continue to do so for eternity I suspect, yes, that love, terrifies me. I mean, honestly, allowing one soul to reach in, behind every mask I adorn, strip me of all pretense, cull me of any shelter, bare me of these layers that I’ve tirelessly placed in self preservation, of protection, against breaking, against being taken, as a fool, as a love sick fool…yep…terrified!
And what of the moment of realization that on paper, the realities simply do not connect all the dots, yet the way every moment of every single day is completely drenched by thoughts of how they make you feel, complete, worthy, wanted, needed. Is that enough? Is that love? Or just another lust that wears a cloak of blood pumping greed? Does love even need to make sense? Or is that the whole purpose? It never does, never will? Is that the hurdle that must be leapt? The edge of the cliff that must be found? The jump, the fall, the not knowing if you’ll crash n burn or flap n soar?
Fucked if I know! All I’m sure of is that I don’t often write of love.
For I, myself know not what it means…


14 thoughts on “I don’t often write of love.

  1. suzzanacryan1

    Yes scary as all hell….but once expereinced whether it lasts or not…love is perhaps the most intense emotion we as humans may ever (redundant)…experience. Love comes in different doses..mother child and grandchild…or pet…or abode…but the love between two people the sexual attraction…how can you measure? I too love writing of that passion between two people…if you’ve never loved…how can you write about it? If you’ve never lusted…again how can we tell others. The crash and burn…well worth it and yes its as scary as hell. I love your posts they always make me think.


  2. b.l. ronan

    you’ve found solace in the mask and now you, yourself, are scratching deeper to find the core of who and what that heart yearns to be. love comes when you are ready and you are fast on the road of self discovery – one of love of self and in turn, another. you’ve a big and unmeasurable ability to love and i am so proud of the journey you are taking in learning to love it again. x


  3. Philip Wardlow

    “Love” what you had to say… I have a bucket list ….one of them is that I wish to skydive….more than once btw…will it be terrifying…is it terrifying to even think on ..yep….does it intrigue me…will the fall be worth it….will I feel something I have never felt before and it will be good for me….a yep to all. You should “love” at least once in the way you fear. Besides, It wont kill you like skydiving might…:)


  4. Chrissy

    And still here we all are writing on about love and how it drives us. Fantastic write my fellow poetess. Just let it out, you are awesome.


  5. marcus

    fuck love…litterally fuck love, when it comes into your life, fuck it for all its worth, take, exhaust it, feed off of it.
    Fuck Love, wholly, beautifully, erotically, spontaneously, as it comes and as it goes
    Fuck love joyously
    got me all hot and bothered M’lle MeKa
    ‘winks, howls, humps and face licks’



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