#one time when i was eighteen a psychic told me my greatest lessons in life would be in intimacy and empathy

[benjaminalphabet]

when you think about love

is it laid out in front of you like a table set with fine china?

or, is it a face watching from the window, never

coming inside?

is it an old friend? is it something hiding the tree line; known but elusive?

to you, is love something to beware of?

how many hours have you spent

trying to coax yourself into unfeeling, gentle waters?

has the tide always been a lukewarm calm for you?

or, has loved pulled you in like a too-strong current?

do you feel safe on the shoreline knowing love lurks in the sea?

to you, is love something to find, or to fear?

i’ll tell you the truth

for me, love is the hand ringing the bell

while i rush from room to room holding serving trays.

for love i perform acts, complete chores, tread water, feign movement.

i am love’s toy, and how i wish to be free from it.

i grow my fingernails long to scratch love off my skin, but like a scar it will not go away;

and i only make it worse.

the longer i spend staring at it, the less familiar it looks to me.

i wonder if love is not made for me, then why does it grow from my veins like garden weeds?

love destroys my landscape like an invasive species.

serpent’s plan disproven,

i’d eat that forbidden fruit if i could only reach it.

i wonder why i misunderstand love

when i have studied it my entire life.

i wish i could rid myself of the burden.

i beg to trade my heart for a stronger spine,

but God does not barter with me.

i wish i could place my heart in an outgoing mailbox, send it off to be someone else’s problem.

i wish my bones would not feel this weight.

i’ve been trying to remove it,

take it off like dirty clothes - but love sticks to my skin like perfume.

i am tainted, i can be no other way.

i wish deeply, unruly in ways, that i did not need it.

i wish that my study could be in survival,

not intimacy. i want something much different.

2.4.24 || untitled