On Love

I always have this feeling of desperation. I want to tell you everything. I wish I could tell you everything all at once and have it make sense but that’s impossible. I tell you so very little and I’m afraid that I’m shooting myself in the foot when I do.

I love you. You know this. In my heart I want to do everything in my power to be with you. Everything in my mind too. But doing everything in my power must include a contingency plan if being with me is not what you want. It’s all wrapped up in a sack like the kind you take to a camping trip.

This is a very important part of love; the ability to let the love of your life go on without you. I can do this. I know I can. It might kill my insides. It might rot my heart until it is soft and brown like the mud made by an incessant rain.

About Ray Onativia

Blogger, Photographer, Human.
This entry was posted in On love, prose and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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