it's in quiet moments of deliberation
that i feel the steady pressure
of love.
it is easier to fall than to stay.
passion is better left unkept,
unexamined,
unwilling to say hello in the morning.
and so i ask myself heavy questions
in heavy silence
feeling heavy pressure.
if i love you, do i even like you?
and what difference does it make
if i fell in love with you,
if i don't like you,
or can't converse with you.
do you make me laugh?
it's all more than i can take.
passion is all i've ever known.
i don't know if i can give anything
constant,
when i myself am made of inconsistent
colours and whims.
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2 comments:
you are anything but inconsistent. you are primary colours, rich red, bluest blue and brightest yellow. you are not whimsical. you've known more than passion. you know what it is to hold on to something. you are eros, fine, but you are not these things.
i love this.
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