April 29th, 2014

You talk of the monsters inside of you,

Of their defined, declared purpose

So why do you not speak when I ask

"What of the love?" 

Dear Love of My Life Who I Have Yet to Find

Dear Love of My Life Who I Have Yet to Find,

I know you’ve taken quite a few wrong turns, eluding me for most of my existence. But then, we might have met, given in to our stubborn natures and refused to feel. You and I, we’re messed up in all the right ways.

I want you to know that I stumble more often than I walk, and I have more insecurities than I can count. If you know me - the way only you are supposed to - you will also know of my love for the hopeless and imperfect and of the pride I have in my work. You must also know that I am capable of spite and jealousy and all the lowest of emotions. That I am capable of hurting you and spewing inappropriate pop-culture references. You have to know that my wishbone has a backbone and even my dreams have a certain pragmatism to them. You have to know of my need to be alone and to be overly critical. You have to know that more often than not, I am lost and have a hard time finding myself. You have to know, my love, and still love me.

I beg you to have patience with my fallacies and strengths, for I know – in my old, cynical way – that I will be fine. And so will you – with your own set of weaknesses.

 It brings a warm smile to my lips to think that you could be reading this, wondering what caused this change in style. Or grinning at the screen, questioning my sanity. But this might go unnoticed, while you struggle and cope with your own colourful life. I wish you luck with that.

I know this sounds a bit too tame, but I look forward to meeting you.

Yours,

The Love of Your Life You Have Yet To Find

Heartbreaker

She needed to break something
Hear the satisfying screech of glass against granite

Coincidence dipped its sticky fingers,
And the first thing that caught her eye - was his heart