[l]ust + n{ee}d = l+ov(-e)
I cried.
Partly because I knew it wouldn't last forever; partly because I knew it was over.
"It's a thing," they said.
I didn't believe them; I couldn't. Because my whole body was telling me that it was real. Maybe that was the problem in the first place.
Maybe love isn't all about passion or consequence or lust. Maybe it's about what you truly feel. But I thought I felt! I felt it with every part of my being.
But I was feeling, not feeling. There's a big difference, you know.
Just wanting someone with your body,
and needing them with your heart.
Maybe it's not time.
But still; it hurts. No matter what sort of love I felt, lust or true love, it still hurts. Nothing can change that, not even the truth. Especially not the truth. You know what I think?
I think.
I need.
To start over.
*
(Author's Note: Composed in July 2002 after some elementary heartbreak. Hey, I was only thirteen then.)
Partly because I knew it wouldn't last forever; partly because I knew it was over.
"It's a thing," they said.
I didn't believe them; I couldn't. Because my whole body was telling me that it was real. Maybe that was the problem in the first place.
Maybe love isn't all about passion or consequence or lust. Maybe it's about what you truly feel. But I thought I felt! I felt it with every part of my being.
But I was feeling, not feeling. There's a big difference, you know.
Just wanting someone with your body,
and needing them with your heart.
Maybe it's not time.
But still; it hurts. No matter what sort of love I felt, lust or true love, it still hurts. Nothing can change that, not even the truth. Especially not the truth. You know what I think?
I think.
I need.
To start over.
*
(Author's Note: Composed in July 2002 after some elementary heartbreak. Hey, I was only thirteen then.)