Romantic love is two people
lying awake at three am, wishing
the other one would call them, afraid
to be the one who calls, being
a great source of entertainment to the gods
while they figure out
the only way to fall asleep
is to fall back in love
with themselves
instead of waiting

I feel myself again
Without holding on so tightly to
your image
The one I carefully crafted
to cover the hole
inside myself
I made a trapdoor out of you
I fall into myself now,
your brightness fading from
the stage of my imagination
I loved my perception of you
rather than just let you perform
I tricked myself into thinking
I understood
your secret magic
and blinded myself to your true

Love doesn’t just happen
but we don’t control it
we are only ourselves together
for a while until we aren’t any more
because we stopped trying
to be our own self
Always break up with someone
who is afraid to let you go.

At that point,
you’re her trapdoor,
keeping her
standing on the stage
of her illusion
keeping her
from falling into
the darkness
where she’s hidden
her own miracles
Without your well-intended
she falls again
into love with herself
at the bottom
she will find self-love
or perhaps not
but that’s not your work.
You got your own miracles
to remember.


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