Love Is More And Less

by Anna Breslin

Love is more
than those sweet moments
when it’s a little slice of death,
it’s more alive
than the superficial sighs
at the depth of color
in your lover’s eyes.

Love pretends
to live in the slow erosion
of soul in submersion,
eyes, heart, mind,
all other-focused.

Giving, giving,
the deadly sacrifices
until the heart is drained
and love is gone.

We wake up to illusions
and realize,
love never was,
or never was as good
as we told ourselves.

Then we rinse and repeat,
next time will be different.

All is nothing.
On is off.
Love is backward,
awkward, a liar
and a thief.

Love is a word
to be tossed around
by those who creep
as if there are no boundaries
because their love
demands your love,
you must acquiesce.

Love, it’s been too easy
to forget ourselves
and in this,
we’re much encouraged
by those who were taught
to expect to be at the center
of every single thing.

Love is not patient,
love is not kind
love consumes the weak.

The only love that really
matters is the love
you have for you.
Discard those who diminish
that love and welcome in
those who expand it.

Seek those who see
the nobility of your soul,
the integrity of your heart
without asking you
to surrender
and merge.

True love doesn’t need,
it offers space and presence.

© 2019, A. Breslin. All Rights Reserved

Image Credit: At the Core, Paul Klee 

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