Poems from a Muddled Soul

- 4 -

Love.

I've been in love before.

It put me at the top of the world, and shoved all the icky stuff to the side.

It made me weep, it made me shutter.

It made my hands shake and finally rest on my keyboard when I tried to type.

It made my chest hurt, breath, expand, it wouldn't help, because the 

Love wouldn't go away.

And when the "I Love You" was unique. Distinct. 

Oh, they way I loved You.

I am a child.

That is correct.

And I do know what it means to be in love.

Because I know the excruciating pain of falling out of it. 

Of feeling it fade.

And being unable to do anything.

Falling out of love is a whole other song, and whole separate chapter.

"She's gone." I would think.

The one time when any thought in my mind was right, not ill-advised.

She's gone.

Doesn't love me.

And then you can't say I love you to her.

Cause she's gone.

And then you're mad. Or are you sad? Very sad? Very mad?

And then you start to question if you loved her.

Which is horrible, because you did,

did she?

Did she?

She must have.

She could have.

Well, it didn't matter, and it doesn't matter, because 

she's gone.

But don't let that define love for you.

That isn't love.

Love is being breathless, and being content, and feeling safe and warm.

That's what I'll take away,

and I'll take it with me,

wherever I go.

Wherever she is,

wherever I end up.

I loved you.

-homage to Her