The Poetical Poems And Short Stories

Love Like A Sinner

" You? You're the lover.  You love furiously, like the rain.                                                                                    Pitter patters of kisses fall on your child's head as she sleeps.  When he wakes, you tell him everything will be alright, though you aren't sure if that's the truth. The world is spiraling out of control, and you don't know what to do. But instead of fighting, you choose love. I respect that. 

The boy who slams the doors shut a bit too hard? He's the liberator. Completely obsessed with times gone by. He's confused when he looks up from what he's reading to find he's in the 21st century.  That boy is our savior, or hero, for words. Albeit he can't look at himself for too long in the mirror because he's scared. He'll come through, his type always do. I try to help him anyway, even though i can't.

The brother stumbling over his own feet? He's the pariah. Probably already had an existential crisis or two. He doesn't know where he's going, or where he's been. He can tell you about the big bang or creationism, but ask him to tell you where he sees himself in five years and the lights in his eyes will slowly dim. Theres something very lonesome about him, i could never place it.

The girl in the back, with the shaking hands and apologetic smile? She's the coward. She'll fumble with her keys, just like the thoughts in her mind. She'll survive, longer than the rest of us, but at what cost? She'll be by herself, always asking "what now"?  Its her worst nightmare and favorite lullaby, I wish I had never met her. 

The sister who walks too fast and still can't seem to keep up? She's the dreamer. She's got a noose around her neck but thinks its the strings of a balloon that will carry her up to heaven. She's standing on a rooftop, thinks she's flying but she's falling. She didn't know better, you couldn't change it. Neither could I. 

The little one who can't fight but will try nonetheless? He's the martyr. His spine is filled with metal and his feet are made of stone. He doesn't know it yet, but he's going to matter. Dimples like constellations, but he's not meant for the stars. This boy will only be cared about when he's six feet under. I wish him well, but hope for the worst. 

Me? I'm the sinner. But more like you than the rest. I love too, but the difference is, I can only love when it hurts. I love the lover, the liberator, the pariah, the coward, the dreamer, and the martyr, but that's what the list ends. Only the ones who are doomed, destined for absolutely nothing. 

Only the ones who can never love me. "

-THE SINNER WHO LOVED