Beyond Lines: Is This What It Means To Fall In Love?

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 Literature) 

To cry an array of tears in demonstration. To feel my heart splinter like a wishbone never wished upon. To think you the sky and me a beggar—to see you that way; with eyes like a typhoon, crying for you. This is what it means to fall in love but never reside in it. 

Is This What It Means To Fall In Love?:

Roses are dead, violets too.

I'm everything but enough for you.

My head says leave and I know it's right,

but my heart tells me to give it time.


So I go through every goddamn motion

and be the man I wish I had.

I tell myself that you're worth it.

My tears, my time, everything I have.


You'll be the first to leave, 'cause I'm too weak to

walk out your dorm and end things with you.

I'm the only one with something to lose.

Is this what it means to fall in love?

I broke my heart to make you happy.

Piece by piece but it means nothing.

I can't cry without feeling guilty.

Is this what it means to fall in love?


I could be the love of your life.

You'll always be the love of mine.


The First To Love)

I am always the first to love. Maybe I'm trusting. Maybe I'm optimistic. Or maybe I've made synonyms of these words, synonyms for desperate. Oftentimes I wonder, did I ever love him or did I love his potential? I am, after all, a writer. Plot lines are my specialty and narratives might as well be my type. In some fucked up, literary sense, the worst men always make the best stories. 


The First To Leave) 

I am never the first to leave. When I love, I love with everything. Everything I have and everything I don't. I condition myself to think him worth it because, as I previously mentioned, I love the potential. Only now I recognize that it was never his potential, but the potential for me to feel something—to be known by somebody.  

 

The One To Lose) 

All this to say, I am forever the one to lose. My sun burned out and my world froze over. I didn't eat for three days and I didn't even feel hungry—I didn't feel anything. But for him, it was like I never happened, like there was no thread twining his life to mine, no trust to be broken, no lies to be told, no unfolding stories, no illegible writing in place of a confession. Forever the one to lose, never the one that's lost—that's me. 


Finality) 

And so a fledgling heart nearing his first flight meets a retired set of wings. We weren't built to soar—just to stare off into indifferent futures, intricate and distant. That's the thing about potential—you see it, even when it's not there. You fall even when it's not there. Touch but never taste. Fall but never reside. 

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