Just once,
I thought I must have fallen asleep
In the middle of life
In the middle of living
Because being in love with you
Was the stuff of dreams
And trying to love you
Was like falling

And I used too much of my brain and not enough heart to tell me that you were right for me, that we were right and that I was imagining things by thinking we should be more patient and kind, and not proud or boastful or all those other things St Paul mentioned. Because I’m none of that, have you realised? I have not been what love is.

I thought once would be enough
How many times would I have to
Stay awake
Trying to distract myself from thinking
Because that’s all I ever do
When it comes to you
Too much brain and too little heart and

My mantra upon waking, did you already know? The rainwater swelling in a monsoon bowl. But I’m almost done with writing you poetic words, especially about things I’ve spent so much time overthinking. I don’t want to write you anymore poetry; I want to write military strategy because you’re a bloody war inside my head. Raucous and loud and overwhelming, laced with the scent of life, blood and death.

But darling,
Should the sun falter
     In its pursuit of the moon
Should this still water
     Be whipped into a fierce typhoon
Should our feet wander
     Off this earth too soon
Know that
– more than once – 
I thought I loved you
(Still do)
(Still desperately trying to.)

4 thoughts on “Once

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