I’ve been loving you too long

“You were tired and your love is growing cold. My love is going stronger, as our affair, our affair grows old. I’ve been loving you, a little too long. I don’t want to stop now. Oh, Oh, Oh. I’ve been loving you a little too long, I don’t want to stop now… Oh baby, I’m down on my knees, don’t make me stop now.” Otis Redding

Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds,

How many times will I fall in love before I’m loved back? Giving away pieces of my soul for free as I beg, barter, steal to replenish the hollow chasms that I carefully chiseled to let you in. Giving love that inspires passionate portraits, watercolor masterpieces as I saw off my ear to show my devotion. Did you receive my precious parcel? I hope it didn’t drip too much on your carpet. Sorry for that.

Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

I’m ashamed that I keep going back, laying my body down on the tracks right as the train toots its horn. I know you’re coming to mow me over and I anticipate the crunch of my bones as every kilogram of the boxcars chug towards its victim. Concrete sleepers cushion like the best hotel bed, my arms folded to pillow my aching head, fingers slightly outstretched toward the steam burning from the firebox, hoping that now; finally I’ll be reconnected to the other portion of my broken heart.

It is the star to every wandering bark, Who’s worth unknown, although his height be taken. Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle’s compass come:

When a heart is broken, it never breaks even. The different tears and cracks in the fragile design fester forming bulbous blisters, puss filled boils filled with the cruel words that you said but only I heard. I knew you turned off what little emotion you partitioned for me, but I never knew how abysmal the affliction would ulcerate. In plain words your actions have proven how I am a non-mothersucking factor in your life. The nonchalance of your inconsideration leaves me disrespected and you don’t see it because you refuse to look. Instead I’m being too sensitive, and in lieu of a simple apology you fall back.

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

I followed you faithfully, ever ready with my encouragement and compassion. Attune to the things you never say, I dissected your silence with my scalpel. Contrary to the harmony I thought I’d find I divested assets in an industry that lacks transparency. Ignoring my financial advisors, I gave you the key ingredient to the family secret: transplanting the last remaining root of the longstanding daffodil plant, I carved into the core, peeling back layers of protective flesh, white spots of poison trying to prevent entry but being the proprietor I counterbalanced its defenses. In the end you see the vision of glory, the tiny budded seed that I offered with careless hands to plant in your garden and grow rich from its flesh. Callously your well-worn hands maim and crush until the nucleus is deprived of healing life.

If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor man ever loved.* (Sonnet 116, Shakespeare)

And thus lands my love, withered by harsh weather and sober soil. I feel like a failure because I softly hoped that I could maintain and never give up. You said yourself that you didn’t want to read and understand what I can’t express in words. Hard-headed, I rolled through the stop sign when I should have halted the car, now without a seat belt I’m at the whim of oncoming traffic.

It will take me a while to realize that I’m releasing him, not rejecting him. Should he ever come back with a kind word or a sincere smile, I’d still be here waiting. But I refuse to make any more first moves. I pressed him to the point where like a turtle he retreated and yet I’m still banging on the shell.  And I keep stringently stating these declarative sentences, replacing question marks with exclamations, to slowly rest at the period, but actually replacing it with a common; because I simply allow more things to come.

I know this is your song… and it’s dedicated to you. The last one for a while. I can’t stagnantly sing sad love songs while you bop your head to your next destination. I didn’t choose this song, but it’s the first one that came to mind, because of its history, because I know it’s your favorite, because of the way you feel the music when every other tune inspires lackluster responses. Because I hope that when you read this you feel the shake and tumble of this rollercoaster. Because I hope you could find some feeling for me in the recess of your vacant cavity that pumps the same vapid energy throughout your body. Because though I’m tired of being in love with you, I can’t stop myself from loving you.

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. whaticanneversaytoyou
    Aug 24, 2011 @ 15:07:25

    I have not known you for that long but I always read your post and it always makes my heart hurt because it is filled with so much pain, so much hurt and all of me wishes that I could mend it, heal it and just make everything better but I know that only God has the power to do that. I can only be there as a friend to listen when it seems like no one else is there.

    I love reading your post. I pray with everything that is in me that your healing will come. Your heart is going to be healed. You are going to stop crying, you aren’t going to have to find that perfect guy because he is going to find you! I love you more than I could ever tell you.

    Reply

  2. Trackback: Make you feel my love « The Soundtrack of My Life

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