Hello beautiful people. The past week has been slightly busier than some of others so I’ve decided to share a poem of mine from the archives. I feel that the subject matter is still relevant, and more than likely always will be. Plus, it’s one of my favorites…not just because I wrote it. All lies…it’s especially because I wrote it. Hope you enjoy it. XOXO
I was sitting here and going through tons of old emails from past lovers and past loves.
I was able to smile at some because I recalled and relived them briefly and the memory felt good.
I was able to sit in contemplation and re-read some a few times to really comprehend the depth of the exchange and (then) emotions.
I was reading old arguments and misunderstandings.
I was reading old hopes and even old dreams.
I was picturing faces, and bodies…Remembering scents, and trips, and meals.
I was recalling first touches, loving glances, and being called baby by every last one of them.
I’ve made and lived a life out of love.
I’ve made a fool (and been made a fool of) out of love.
I’ve shed tears.
I’ve raised my voice, and have even gotten silent when I was losing my grip on love.
I gave each person the parts of me that I felt they deserved and could handle…because MY love…was really too much for me and would surely be too much for them.
I nurtured my own ego and fed it well during love.
I tortured my own soul, while years past in a month while in love.
I explained why you couldn’t have me and why I couldn’t have you, and why love wasn’t enough to make either of us put up with the other over love. I’ve made love make sense when it didn’t and I made it not make sense when it could have.
I would have given you me completely, unreservedly, plainly, freely, sloppily, neatly, discreetly, sweetly, but wasn’t sure if you’d then keep me.
Or if I’d choose to keep you because I didn’t want to want and not be wanted the same.
The first to inflict pain is the one who never ever feels it.
I’ve had phone conversations about this love and that love, and why they weren’t loving me but still treating me lovingly because they lacked the experience, and knew that when it came down to love, I experienced it and couldnt be told just anything.
Love kept me up late, love woke me up early.
Love called me during lunch and on my way home.
Love shared and love let me fall asleep.
Love Washed my clothes, and I folded loves plain white t-shirts.
Love had me making sandwiches with verbal instruction from the next room when we were the same distance from the kitchen and could get there at the same time.
I was driven to the doctor by my love when what I would have loved was a miraculous healing instead because If I had to get out of bed, I would have rather done something interesting.
When I was in love we took walks just because, chose restaurants for dinner based on how close they were to the house, and how quickly we’d get what we ordered after we ordered it.
I wired money to love.
I bought cars for love.
I dressed love up in what I wanted it to wear and tossed shoes in the trash that love didn’t approve of.
Love is all about approval.
I wrote songs for love.
I gave half-a** apologies to love with my whole heart.
I cut my hair for love.
I grew my hair for love.
I rubbed shea butter on the feet of love.
I gave love my permission, while I did what I wanted because I was told I’d do it anyway.
I loved with conviction without direction full of purpose was my love.
I meditated on,
I asked for,
I dreamt of,
I even prayed for love.
Some love left me,
I left some love behind
but the most important love still remains.
That which was there unconditionally, can never leave
First, last, and lasting.
love without love always becomes what it needs to be.
I still love Love
but now we BOTH love me!!!
©2008 DC Jackson