He loves me. The beginning, it’s beautiful. The full mooned nights mesh into days and all we see is you and I. Who are they? The strangers who dare silence the intensity of our emotions. They are the storm and we are the rays. Together, let us allow the light to beam through once again.
He loves me not. We have yet to dim but the light has flickered. On and off. Off and on. The tender grazing of our silken skin is enough to create a wildfire. A couple of skeptics under anesthetics. Who gives a damn about our fickle minds when we have swollen hearts?
He loves me. There is a certainty in your almond eyes. I believe them. Your pupils reflect our future and I see myself swimming in the known. Today. Tomorrow. Forever. It is us. We are it. We will always be.
He loves me not. We relish in the sour taste of our sweet, sweet greed. Our shared enticement satisfies our equally shared hunger. We have vanished into our abstract third world where muddied water runs rampant, our totality; vanquished.
He loves me. High strung on cerulean ether our differing frequencies favor each other. We have lost ourselves in the melting pot of the skies. The acidic droplets that incinerate humanity hold half hidden truths of cliché happy endings in the state of becoming.
He loves me not. We have apathetically built an empire that was never meant to last. The structure has crumbled above us. Slowly. Falling. Falling. Falling. The debris clutters the air with intoxicated naivety. There is only our inner devotion left; an attempt at recollecting what we once knew and rectifying the edifice of our hearts.
He loves me. Our earth is green and vast but somehow we found each other. In the midst of all the mayhem you choose me to fuse to. Our bloodstreams had merged and by the time I had realized my mistake, I could not refuse you.
He loves me not. We have muffled our words and swallowed our feelings. Our only option left is to implode. We are one but we are gone.
He loves me. It was magnanimous indulgence that kept the spirit of our unification alive. We flourished and vowed to commit to the futility in our petulant temperament. The grayness of our own personalized ward condemned us but like outpatients we luxuriated in our colorless limitations.
He loves me not. I have started to dream of birds. With them, I fly and I soar. You look up from beneath me and smile. In them, I am capable. You believe in everything I believe. In me, within me. I have trusted in myself and you have trusted in me. What a silly girl with such silly dreams.
He loves me. He molds me and morphs me into his standard of perfection. I have become conditioned to a series of changes and this is the greatest. Using stagnancy to mask consistent alterations becomes your preferred tactic. I do it, I do it, I do it for you. A persistent little voice nags at me though, “why would you change me when I have become you?”
He loves me not. Define equanimity /ekwəˈnimədē/ (noun): mental calmness, composure, and evenness of temper, especially in a difficult situation. Dictionary.com. you still do not comprehend. We still make an attempt at amends.
He loves me. The string that conjoined our pinkies has begun to stretch and wear, however, we are still there. With its frayed imperfections and its fading red; fighting fate, standing stiff in fear. One false move could mean our ultimate demise.
He loves me not. You never did, did you? Only the idea of the idea of the perfect you. I reflected your faults, mirrored back what was true. Now you stand with nothing to look forward to. The night has gone back to night. The day has gone back to day. I have opened my eyes. I can see again.
(For those who have read up to the end of this strange, strange poem, thank you. I have gone back and forth for months trying to finish this but the intensity of the events that I went through that allowed me to write this was sometimes too much to bare. So, I prolonged it as much as I could.
For you: If you are reading this, which I do not doubt. I have washed my hands of your abusive manipulative ways. You will no longer attempt to control my emotions or squeeze yourself into my life any more. I will not let you ruin the progress that I have made. Take this as your closure. Heal and seek help because that has never been my responsibility. You are not mine to fix.)