January 24, 2013

• Poem and Quote: Home

  Home

   

  Our love, is the type of love that only comes around for a very special few,
  The type of love that grows roots. . . and digs though the flesh to drink deep.
  The type of love that, when you try to separate it, rips you open and feels physical.
  Physical.... Physical in a way that it almost feels like you are literally being torn limb from limb
  One branch at a time, and the weeping willow weeps, because that is what weeping trees do.
  They weep, because they are lonely, and they need their roots buried deep, to feel whole.

  That is our type of love, the type of love that almost feels like a drug, because it is.
  A drug.... one that has withdrawal symptoms that can kill a man.... make him.......
  Bleed out, on the floor, from that gaping chest wound that used to be his heart.
  But it is worth it,  that love that runs so deep,  it is intoxicating to be around.
  It is a living thing. And yeah it sheds its tears, but its worth it, your worth it,
  We are worth it, because our love is a drug, and the roots run deep, really fucking deep.

  To be in love with you, feels like madness, but I kinda like the insanity of it.
  The ebbs and flows, the real grit and grim, we get dirty with it, and we....
  Get raw with it, and when it is good, it is fucking amazing, like high as a kite.
  Flying on this feelin', this carnal lust, deep inside, where I belong, with you.
  Home, I am home, when I am with you, and I would rather bleed out being torn...
  Limb by fucking limb, and have that hole in my chest when you are absent, than...

  Anything..... Our's is the type of love, that poets write saga's about, artists paint
  Black and red, dripping wet, we are always dripping wet, dripping in a good way
  And in a bad way, either one of us is bleeding from that hole in our chest......
  Or I have have you begging me, begging me to forgive you until we are both
  Dripping wet, and exhausted, loving every fucking minute of me being home.
  In you, with you, beside you, inside you, rooted deep inside you, we are...

  One, and the same, rooted in each other until we are drinking deep and
  Addicted to the drug that has become our life, our love, sprawled across
  These pages that make up our story like insanity run rampant and crazed.
  A poets saga of dripping passions, rising and falling on the strokes of a...
  Brush, painted on these pages, for all the world to see how much I love you
  How much I need you, and how much you are my special place called: Home

   

   

   

   

  Quote: "Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are.

  Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two."

  - Captain Corelli's Mandolin

   

  • 1:20 pm
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