Category: Philosophical
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Why I choose to love
Perhaps it is selfish to speak of love. I give so as to get, etcetera; a transaction of tenderness, an economy of vulnerability. I make my bargain with pain in order to receive the benefits of joy. I am prepared to accept this possibility. Self-interest is pursued in many ways, often to the detriment of…
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Love letter # 383
So, you’re wondering why I left early, without saying goodnight. Simple. You in that dress. Too much. Couldn’t bear it. Not the thought of no – which I know already – but the dread of hope. Easier to walk away. Better for both of us.
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Love letter # 87
Before I became the fool I am now, I too was foolish. Like you, I stumbled, believing the fiction, the myth of lovers. Entranced, unseeing, I ran into the wall of folly. There I was burned alive, and put others to the flame. I broke all my promises and was, in turn, let down. Thereafter,…
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Love letter # 424
This is where it ends. The years. My complicity. For a long while I believed you. After that, I merely wished not to disbelieve. Then I saw too clearly. I contemplated fury; was tempted by the colder unfurling of vengeance. Instead, I played a longer game, and you, righteous and entitled, stumbled towards this moment.…
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Love letter # 60
In the bright eye of early afternoon I think of lightness. Later, in the smoky shade of evening, I contemplate remnants; things I have carried for years, like the weight of your touch.
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Love letter # 236
It’s true, things could have gone differently. We both made poor choices, acted out of pain. In the end it was a mess. Yet, always within reach, the love that uplifted, that promised to redress everything. As much as we made it our excuse, it gave us flight. When we were close, truly together, we…
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Love letter # 2509
Yesterday, when we knew everything, nothing could stop us. Ours was the miracle unfolding. Today, we persist in ordinary orbit. No longer at the centre of things. Not wild, not cool, not defiant. We are no one’s idea of anything. Yet, even in our unromantic waking, a kind of dream. A slow, grey yearning.…
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Love letter # 737
It is the people who claim to know you that have the least idea. Hypocrite that I am, I tell myself you understand this; that I sense it in your remove. Your covert fire. We met outside the lines, away from the party. In our exile, we knew. Not like them. That. Yet still they…
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Love letter # 394
Do you remember? One day, I love you. The next, I can’t do this. Abrupt. The slap of sudden freeze. Crisp realisation. A blizzard of disorientation. Waking, barely believing, to the wrench of withdrawal. First, bleeding. Later, seeing. Whatever we hold today may be lost tomorrow; and those we know may be unmasked as mystery.…
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