Unending Love

Without warning
as a whirlwind
swoops on an oak
Love shakes my heart
~ Sappho

Seriously, *Starry's answer to unending love is ahem...quite personal so to speak. Yours truly is almost *embarassed to put it here. but hey, she might take the blog down, so for the sake of future *blackmail material, here it is:

I find myself in a relationship, loving you more than you would care for me. Call this a misconception, perhaps? But the aching heart that feels empty without you, and the dreams and daydreams of you and the times we had together, not forgetting the tingle of my skin where you used to touch me with such tenderness, and at every possible moment my act of reading and re-reading your writings to me, endlessly... these obsessions, my love, are cataclysmic of my inner actions never for any single soul and they prove my worth of love. If the physical proof you require, shall we compare tears shed? For the eye's dew speaks true of what is really in the heart. And with this measure, it is once again me who loves you more.

This unending love, that poets and romantics and idealists speak of -- I know it to be true for I cannot comprehend how this heart can be presented so whole and unconditional to you to be taken away and presented for another. This gift freely and eagerly given and used as you please as long as you are it's master and keeper.

I have given you a gift so precious. Do you really treasure it as much as you should?

Yet, it is obvious that I love you more than you for me and the logical truth then reveals that you love me less than I for you. This is the evil reality of human relationships, that it can not exist in an equilibrium.

I recall the day when we still were each our own. Then you'd slay dragons at the risk of your very life because you claim that it'd be meaningless without my favour. And as a knight most honourable, you'd stake your pride merely for this damsel's smile and blush. I was the prize of your calculated actions.

I believe you love me, but my love was in part a conquest too, wasn't it?

While you still sing me your love in your knightly ways and charms sweep me off my feet, and while your lips show homage of affections both through words and deed most effectively, how can this mere damsel resist the heady spell you've cast for the moment? When the bed is left cold on your side and your voice now a distant echo in the mind I can only long for you in a most painful and torturous manner.

Your assurance of everlasting love I need, convincingly and to be taken by the hand or mind to visually see forevermore. Your assurance, if you even tried was futile and even more certain am I that you love me less.

Slowly but surely, your ignorant ways of the needs of a woman will fail you to convince me of your verbal promise of love. Slowly but surely, I will eventually love you less. Soon, nothing, as pain can numb the self.

Wasn't it a pity, that we started out being so sure of evermore but it became a temporary, fleeting feeling to now, nothing?

.::.

Next topic: the Needs of a Woman

Love is a game

between a man & a woman?