January 31st, 2023
I hate a lot of things, but I believe loving is my strongest grievance.
It is my fault and my own kryptonite, and I hate that it is what drives me.
But I am built by these arms of a heart, and filled to the brim with this emotion of love.
My body is the personified creation of this old mechanic core, and I hate it.
But I am made from centuries of this dread, and I fear that it is forever burnt into me like engraved initials surrounded by my heart.
My genes are constructed of millennia of embraces and crinkled eyes, and I hate it.
I hate that at the end of the day, this love, this consistent feeling is what puts me to rest with peace.
I hate that I feel it so significantly that I must grab at the heart that made it every time my body feels its cruel power again.
I resent loving like I hate sadness, but as I mutter out these words, both shelter me in a hug, and I weep and fall into clinging to my chest.
It is my fault and my own weakness, but unfortunately enough, it is what makes me live the most.
-AL
YOU ARE READING
'I' Poems - A Collection
PoesíaCover Artwork: "Going Home" -Tom Roberts (1889) In the midst of my melancholy, I am suddenly inspired to write short poems that reflect a fragment of my emotions in the moment. This story is the collection of all of them thus far. Do not copy my wor...
