…..but even the passive becomes the aggressive if longing is love,
and love is expected.
But these are just feelings devoid of the meaning,
missing the actions that gauge satisfaction.
knowing full well the broken will know this,
selective of love,
like those who are loveless,
pretending we don’t spite our noses for faces,
fixating on impossible chases,
leaving behind the love that could love us,
ignoring the better self always above us,
perpetually drowning affection aplenty,
finding another framed platitude empty,
the truth is a gamble that hedges your bets.
acting like there’s something significant left.
within cynicism create observation,
from little recorded to full out sensation,
enough to choke and kill the cynic.
oh god…there you are, I did it.
I love you, you love me,
but why can’t I breathe?
I find the air thinner,
between wanting and need,
I find myself thinner between wanting and you,
not surprised that I failed to learn this anew,
reassured that I may never know growth through lesson,
holding the passive without the aggression.
but what if intensity wasn’t aggressive…..