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 remember being me.
What's it like to be you?
Somebody asked me once, and I said it was... normal.

But in truth, it was like having this massive black hole of power in my core.

Being me:
Knowing that if I didn't smile at someone of a morning
They'd spend the rest of the day hating their brain, thinking their name was on everybody's lips
For all the wrong reasons.

Being me:
Knowing that if I wore heels and a tank top,
A girl two years younger than me would start to tweet
About wanting to diet
Not an hour after we say our goodbyes, me towering over her as I hug her loosely,
Because my ribs would hurt her otherwise.

Being me:
Knowing I have some wash of beauty on my features
Knowing my impossible curves rival Helen of Troy's
And knowing my detachment meant the end
Between me and my only honest friend.

Being me:
Never asked to do anything,
Because it was obvious I was too busy, my hands too soft.
But secretly lonely, and outside plotting plants with my father,
Because he's the best girlfriend I've ever had.

Being me:
Painting pretty pictures.
Well done darling girl.
Do you want to see my book of self portraits?
They're perfectly ugly, in black and white, and I love every one.

Being me:
Hating every girl who looks at you funny
Saying no to every other guy,
Because I'm waiting for the day you look at me funny.
Saying yes to everything you ask, because I'm stupid, and I'll play your games
Though you're not perfect.

Being me:
Saying goodbye to all my friends last May,
And not hearing from a single one of those petty people.
I think they'd had enough of pretty people.
And I think I can say the same.

I remember being me.

Being vibrant.
Being brighter than the sun.
Being much too harsh to look at.

My thoughts are empty
and my mouth is dry
my chest is heavy
and my eyes can’t cry.
you’re staring at me
waiting for me to speak,
so I shrug my shoulders
and shake my head,
would you understand that
the words I’m searching for
do not exist?
I take your hand and squeeze it tight
hoping you have learned
to read my mind.
I wish I could hold you
hug you and kiss you
run my fingers through your hair
and study your eyes.
*all I can give you now
is a promise:
that I loved you yesterday,
and I will love you tomorrow;
today my mind flows wildly
like dust from a supernova,
exploding into infinite space,
destined to form a new star.
a New love, a new spark of light,
but not today.
I promise I love you tomorrow.

Love was a fleeing thought;
It was something that could not be sought.

At teens, there was irrational love.
With time on our side, it was easy to stay on the peak of the curve.

Come early twenties and life started to get busy.
There's work, commitments and many responsibilities.

Love then took on a new meaning.
Amidst the passion and occassional sparkles igniting,
People were also looking for sustainability.

'Date for your future', the older ones quipped.
'Make effort! You harvest what you reap!'

So once again, we started wondering
About this love in our life that has been evolving.

That what would it finally be?
A fire burning desire or that glowing warmth within?

Then you came along and I found love
And of no other purpose does love serve -

to bring two people in this world together,
to love and protect each other, as they bring life to the next level.

You helped me with my calculus,
And told me about tangent lines
Which meet for a while,
Then go their separate ways

In biology you gave me a microscope
Showed me a piece of my hair, and said
“See, these ends are where my fingers get stuck.”
And proceeded to tell me how our bodies
Are constantly changing, making new cells

You even knew some psychology
And explained why I felt butterflies around you
All those neurotransmitters bouncing around
Making me happy in the presence of you

You showed me so many things
I thought you could teach me anything
And be the answer to all of my questions

You never taught me what to do in your absence

you were curling my hair around your fingers and laughing at the shape of them
  or maybe you were just laughing at me,
         I’m not sure.
and then I told you I loved you and you smiled—
                  ok that didn’t happen—
what happened was you pulled at the curls you just made in your own hands
until they weren’t attached to my head anymore.
     it didn’t hurt, I think.
    and then you put them in your pocket and ran away
                                  and then you fell and she picked you up and put you in her pocket and ran away too.
then you came back and said whoops, sorry but you still didn’t give me them back
         I don’t know if I even want them back.
on the way to the place with the people and the things in the car you winked at me
or maybe you had something in your eye,
but I smiled and you said that’s fine so I cried for a little and then it was just us
but I was still scared she was going to put you in her pocket and run away again
     but you told me not to worry.
and then we were swimming in the pool
but then I looked down and it wasn’t a chlorine-colored blue
  it was red like the sun at sunset but it wasn’t sunset and there was no sun;
      I felt ok but you didn’t and you pulled a knife out from under the pillow—
               the one in your room—
and that’s when I finally realized you were going to be the one to **** me
and I also realized I was ok with it
because better you to **** me than some other shmuck,
you know?
      the only problem was I wasn’t the first one you killed,
or it should have been a problem,
or rather they all said it was a problem;
but it wasn’t.
and then we were rolling around in the grass,
and I lost an earring and you said whoops, sorry and I kissed you anyway
               but you didn’t kiss me back
but you pretended to and that was alright so I went with it
      but then you didn’t want to go all the way and I was ****** but pretended I wasn’t
and then you said shhhhhh and then you grew wings and flew away
and left me there for the birds to eat
while she grew wings to be with you so you weren’t alone.
and then we were sitting on your porch swing and it was swinging slowly
and you looked straight into my eyes for hours while I talked about nothing
but then you started to talk about something
and then I got really happy
and then we started swinging so fast that we were in the sky,
         but we weren’t, really.
and then she stopped the swing and picked you up and put you in her pocket and ran away again.
     this time you didn’t come back.
then I turned into ***** and told you I was ok with it.
                   and then I cried.
               and then I woke up.

Don’t watch the people,
Watch the patterns,
The habits, the gestures,
The shared reactions.

Is it all in my head?
...
I think so...

Did I make it all up?
...
I hope so...

What is real
And what isn't?
Somewhere
In the midst of it,
The line
Between the two
Blurred.