the sometimes-state-of-mind
~
Love is selfish.
you claim someone as your own, claim that they belong to you. you say you would do anything for them because you believe they validate your worth, because you believe they make the world liveable, for yourself. you do not think of them, or their feelings. you think of how they make you feel. you take pleasure in the feelings they evoke in you and the shadows of beauty you believe they allow you to see, that is all.
Love is the most selfish feeling in the world. maybe that's why it's Hate's better-looking, better-liked twin, Nostalgia's second-cousin, Spite's stepsister. it hides the ugliness inside of you, cloaks it with pretty words and childish notions, fools you into thinking that your place in this world lies in someone else's hands.
at least the others are honest. Hate tells it like it is, paints the world in black and white. Spite gives you the cold hard truth. sharp angles and solid boundaries. Nostalgia is easy to invoke, easy to yield to. they do not lie.
there is no purpose. pretty words are the shadows of clouds. childish notions exist as whisps, on the outskirts of dreamless nights. you bare your soul, gently place it in the palm of someone's hand, knowing they could and will obliterate it — but you do it anyway, for short-lived gratification. for greed, for selfishness.
no one understands that there are different shades of black. Love pretends to be rose-gold and everlasting, but varnish chips away. Love is black, blacker than Hate, blacker than Hell, blacker than Blood.
Love is selfish.
(I have never claimed to be selfless.)
YOU ARE READING
The Second Time
Puisi☾ This is a book of drafts of dorky, hopeless poems, poem-ish works, and rants that usually make no sense whatsoever. I hope you enjoy reading them just as much as I enjoy writing them. ☽ Copyright © 2015 by something1d, all rights reserved. Poetry...
