i question, "is it just me whose heart feels this intensely?"
i answer, "it must be or he would say more
or take some kind of action"
am i deceiving myself?
is anything true?
and then i think, "no, he loves me.
he takes (very calculated) risks,
he makes the effort to see me."
but i know that lust alone will cause that
i feel broken
unsettled
and such a fool at times for love
i don't want this feeling
this hopeless yearning
this endless need
this heartache
but i know
that without him
there would be nothing
for what meaning has life without love
without passion?
i am not one of those women
who fills her remaining years
with grandchildren and trivial pursuits
i am still alive
a firey soul
unwilling to succumb to what is expected of me
i want life
and to me
love and passion are life
otherwise i am already dead
but why must it be so painful?
because it is love
and it's not mine to have
so i suffer to know those few brief moments
when opportunity allows him to slip away
in those moments he comes to me
to seek refuge to be free
to know himself and
the giving and receiving of love
we give of ourselves freely and completely
and when he goes away
i am undone
he says the tears he causes are his penance
in truth they are mine
