Sitting on the edge of the unknown
hand-in-hand staring at the sky
we whisper sweet nothings
and watch the celestial turbulence
for tonight,
even the stars are falling for you

Before I begin, allow me to explain,
I too loved.. once,
so think of me not as some cynic-
nor as a master in the ways of love-
but rather as a keen observer-
now, that may mean I have nothing to offer you-
no insider knowledge-
no secrets of love-

But I do  know how to tell a true love story -

Interested?
Fantastic-
So let’s begin,

True love, if there is such a thing at all,
is like the thread that makes the cloth
you can’t tease it out-
you can’t extract meaning-
without ending up deeper in the web-
and it always remains-
hidden under layers -

In the end, that’s all you can really say about any
True love story-
They don’t generalize-
They don’t analyze-
They arent found-
They just… happen.

and that’s what makes them “true.”

But what is this coveted “love” -
the emotion?-
the act?-
the mentality?-

Love, is a constant state of illusionment-

A collective agreement amongst humans-
that it, whatever it may be,  can be treated as an excuse
for recklessness, irrationality, and misplaced strife-  

A quid pro quo  between two individuals-
to agree that they are doing something-
anything-
other than mindlessly drudging through life-

Now that is not to say that what love creates is pointless-
I said before, I have felt the embrace of love
Love festers between individuals for so long
it has no option-
but to mould the physical to itself-
and alter our personalities-

Characterized by spontaneity-
by indulgence-
by risk-
to love is the most dangerous experience in existence-
the act of being fully vulnerable with another-
while promising not to hurt them the same-

Love is characterized by vulnerability-
and the constant fear of being hurt-

So you want to know how to write a true love story?
be honest-
dwell not on the “romantic” blindfolds that keep us irrationally seeking our partners-
dwell not on the on the memories of a love that blossomed-
reveal the core of love -

A true love story comes from gut instinct-
A true love story, comes from experience.
A true love story, if truly told, makes the stomach believe

So I said I loved once,
allow me to elaborate-

I too have felt the “butterfly stomach”
- where the insides of the lovestruck turn on their host and manifests the emotional significance of meeting “the one”

I too have spent the day daydreaming...
-Lost in the thought of “the one”, seeking brief breaks from reality in my mind between moments of  utter normalcy

I too have melted into a puddle of emotion….
-lying next to “the one” as we slowly spill more and more of the secrets that bound us as individuals, joining a spirit much larger than ourselves-

I too have felt... invincible-
-to know that I’ve found something more significant than myself. Something that replaces the fear of the future.. and makes it something to look forward to.

Yes, I too have fallen in love.
and I did just that-
I fell.





..And that is my true love story-

I let you slip from my hands
Right through the cracks
It was a simple, yet painful loss
I want you back, your still in my thoughts

I can't make it stop
Even if I tried
There will still be a little piece of me that has died

I need you back
More than you'll ever know
Memories of you come to my mind
I smile foolishly

To this day I wonder
If you were playing or being real
I needed your love, but you didn't care

I'm left here saying whatever
Act like I don't care
But my mind takes me back to those days
Why did i dare to let you leave

Even though
you are the one
who left me
stranded and
short of breath,
I still wish
you were here to
hold my hands
while I am going through
this sea of troubles
I am drowning in.

I wish you
were here to
teach me
how to swim.

The trees duck and sway
A branch thrown here, a leaf dropped there
A trunk flung across the walk

The cars drift as
their neon headlights scratch the black
To find traffic lines
To guide their climb

(not finished)
I sit in a window behind a curtain that looks like bark
I water my plants, I sit on finished wood
And I wait
For nature to run away

We knew reflections of every second
considered each tick of time as gold plated storehouses
of discussions together
It was us alone,
Cruising in comfort on the high seas
of our freshly found emotions.
You added to the svelteness of the image
through constant change in beauty
and I absorbed all the finesse, as if,
it would never  reflect in the tomorrows
of our world where we lived fully engaged
and completed.

You belonged to me, just as sure as,
the tree to the earth, the sky to blue
the sun to warmth and ice to winter
so sure we were of the others reason
to be bound in such a way as to be
fulfilled.

In the streams of your eyes I saw
the waterfalls of longing and on your lips
I tasted the meaning of spring and the ripest
fruits of desire and the make-up of dreams.

Everything went so well
the reflections and reasons
and we still look at ourselves
and laugh at the millions of reflections
that have built up inside and outside
of ourselves.

" The mirror sees not but itself,
Dew on a flower, tears or something?"
Author Notes

Thanks to Arseny Tarkovsky, the Russian Poet and the closing lines to Ghalib, the Persian Poet.  Without their outstanding poems this could not have unfolded the way it did.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 18 hours ago

Apparently ***** isn’t the solution to everything because after the fifth shot, the only word I managed to slur was your name.