In all my years on this planet, in this incarnation, I've never experienced shame about passion. Vulnerability, certainly. Weird whinging feelings fleeing wildly everywhere causing shameovers galore. We all are taught, bashed over the head even, that passion is paramount. It's the apex that we all are encouraged to embrace. Is it a sin to yearn and ache for consensual copulation; to grow sore and achy after a night of love-making? How can you violate someone that you yearn for, begging with need, for that powerful release? I'm lost. Truly lost. Uncomprehending and angry. He loves another and calls me a family member.
Karma, some say, is a bitch. The vehicle through which we deserve what we've perpetrated unto others, doubled back onto us. I prefer to see it as a lesson to be learned. Fucking people over, being fucked over... I've left behind the just getting fucked. Love, for me, must be an algorithm I can't seem to unravel. The future is a blind, nebulous place; one rich in Nothing. It's a new situation, opening oneself and bending all your rules just to be dumped for being too passionate. A coworker told me tonight that because of my love of Bjork, I should just get a cat and get it over with. The getting over with becoming that crazy lady who loves cats and listens to music. Um... done and done.
If there are any of my ex-lovers out there, feel free to gloat. I feel it in all my bones, the loss of loving someone who doesn't love you in return. Humbled and bruised, I'm sorry, it's nothing glamorous. But, it's real. This is the song I've craved multiple times a day for the last three days, on repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Like medicine for the mind, the heart... the kind that does nothing but remind you of what you've lost.
Wait a minute baby
Stay with me awhile
Said you'd give me light
But you never told me about the fire
Drowning in the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
But now it's gone
It doesn't matter what for
When you build your house
Then call me home
And he was just like a great dark wing
Within the wings of a storm
I think I had met my match, he was singing
And undoing, and undoing the laces
Undoing the laces
Said Sara, you're the poet in my heart
Never change, never stop
But now it's gone
It doesn't matter what for
But when you build your house
Then call me home
Karma, some say, is a bitch. The vehicle through which we deserve what we've perpetrated unto others, doubled back onto us. I prefer to see it as a lesson to be learned. Fucking people over, being fucked over... I've left behind the just getting fucked. Love, for me, must be an algorithm I can't seem to unravel. The future is a blind, nebulous place; one rich in Nothing. It's a new situation, opening oneself and bending all your rules just to be dumped for being too passionate. A coworker told me tonight that because of my love of Bjork, I should just get a cat and get it over with. The getting over with becoming that crazy lady who loves cats and listens to music. Um... done and done.
If there are any of my ex-lovers out there, feel free to gloat. I feel it in all my bones, the loss of loving someone who doesn't love you in return. Humbled and bruised, I'm sorry, it's nothing glamorous. But, it's real. This is the song I've craved multiple times a day for the last three days, on repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Like medicine for the mind, the heart... the kind that does nothing but remind you of what you've lost.
Wait a minute baby
Stay with me awhile
Said you'd give me light
But you never told me about the fire
Drowning in the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
But now it's gone
It doesn't matter what for
When you build your house
Then call me home
And he was just like a great dark wing
Within the wings of a storm
I think I had met my match, he was singing
And undoing, and undoing the laces
Undoing the laces
Said Sara, you're the poet in my heart
Never change, never stop
But now it's gone
It doesn't matter what for
But when you build your house
Then call me home
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