deepundergroundpoetry.com
5: 89: To Believe In You
Excerpt 89 from Journal 5, 'Reaching My True Love'
-from 'Journals To My True Love, Part 2'
My Love, there is a place so deep within us that
we avoid it in fear...
I know you are there and so I avoid you...
I hate you because you never became real and
the hate lives there in that place too...
I don't want to hate, so I don't retreat inward
to that deep place; but in this choice I can't
truly love either for it is only you that I truly love...
As an innocent child I lived within that place of pure
love surrounded by those who cared and
reciprocated me; but the needs of a child are
simple compared to the needs of an adult...
A child cannot distinguish between reality and
and illusion; even feigned love is so real...
I can't go back to that place; anyway those
people who loved me there have died...
No one will ever view me in innocence again
for I am tarnished by loss, degradation and age...
How unlovable I feel...
How I want to unravel this damage by telling
this story, but it just damages it more...
No story can fully embellish the truth into its
full potential; I can't love you with a story
even if I paint you fantastically...
I can't go back when the stepping stones I
used to get here have fallen away...
I thought I could build a bridge to go back
and you would build it too from your side,
but I only see a murky haze across a
rushing river...
I hate what I can't see clearly or understand...
Hate is a protection; it is like a support stick,
a crutch...
It is also a defensive weapon that I feel I need...
In a turbulent adult world that the child inside
can't fathom I must shelter myself...
Yet I won't retreat too deep; I am in limbo
somewhere in the middle...
I won't go to the deep place; I don't want
to destroy you even if you are an illusion...
I need you... I would rather live within the
misunderstanding and let this sustain me...
The wonder of illusion, the inspiration it creates
and the adventure to an unknown...
I crave the journey to cross the river for the
sake of itself...
My limbs seek to be strengthened by it...
What a mystery, to channel illusion and
be strengthened...
How childlike and naiive of me that I would
believe in you...
-from 'Journals To My True Love, Part 2'
My Love, there is a place so deep within us that
we avoid it in fear...
I know you are there and so I avoid you...
I hate you because you never became real and
the hate lives there in that place too...
I don't want to hate, so I don't retreat inward
to that deep place; but in this choice I can't
truly love either for it is only you that I truly love...
As an innocent child I lived within that place of pure
love surrounded by those who cared and
reciprocated me; but the needs of a child are
simple compared to the needs of an adult...
A child cannot distinguish between reality and
and illusion; even feigned love is so real...
I can't go back to that place; anyway those
people who loved me there have died...
No one will ever view me in innocence again
for I am tarnished by loss, degradation and age...
How unlovable I feel...
How I want to unravel this damage by telling
this story, but it just damages it more...
No story can fully embellish the truth into its
full potential; I can't love you with a story
even if I paint you fantastically...
I can't go back when the stepping stones I
used to get here have fallen away...
I thought I could build a bridge to go back
and you would build it too from your side,
but I only see a murky haze across a
rushing river...
I hate what I can't see clearly or understand...
Hate is a protection; it is like a support stick,
a crutch...
It is also a defensive weapon that I feel I need...
In a turbulent adult world that the child inside
can't fathom I must shelter myself...
Yet I won't retreat too deep; I am in limbo
somewhere in the middle...
I won't go to the deep place; I don't want
to destroy you even if you are an illusion...
I need you... I would rather live within the
misunderstanding and let this sustain me...
The wonder of illusion, the inspiration it creates
and the adventure to an unknown...
I crave the journey to cross the river for the
sake of itself...
My limbs seek to be strengthened by it...
What a mystery, to channel illusion and
be strengthened...
How childlike and naiive of me that I would
believe in you...
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 4
reads 690
Commenting Preference:
The author is looking for friendly feedback.