Heart String Theory
“Is it weird...?”
“Is it weird that?”
“Am I crazy if?”
“I don’t know why, I just...”
The questions that come with the deeply unmoored and excited delirium of early Love, when both participants are still picking through each other’s boundaries trying to find a livable middle ground to function. The type of yearning for positive reinforcement that only comes from establishing impromptu levels of homeostasis, with that potential copilot.
“Is it weird that, as I snap awake, with the sun, from a tortured vaporous dungeon of sleep, That I see your face?”
“Am I crazy”
“This is crazy...”
“WE are crazy”
The red, lace, straight-jacket of Love had barely begun to cinch down. Like all dangerous games, it seemed more like a bold outfit choice, and not a vast disadvantage to swimming in the stream of consciousness. Maybe this one will float better than the last one. Comparing childhoods, looking for similarities, finding only that.
“yeah I know how that is…”
“Being the new kid sucks...”
“I’m just going to talk to mine like an adult…”
Where are you supposed to put boundaries and expectations, when your mind is already tied tight? Neuron to neuron, interlaced and pulsating with the possibility that this is the end of “alone”, maybe the end of “unhappy”, never. Maybe this is the end of the world. My world. Your world. OUR world. The “We’s”, and “ours” circle, foaming at the mouth, they smell a feast.
“I don’t know why I was thinking…”
“Would you maybe want to...?”
“Can you picture us in …?”
Bleeding now, hopelessly entangled in a willing lack of sanity; we float on. Why is it that WE strive so hard to maintain an Aire of certainty, and stability? Just to rethink and trash the whole strategy to re-sculpt the past, and throw razors of rigid caution into the wind? spin the cylinder, and try “WE” again?
Lightning surely couldn’t strike twice, pursue the sparks.
“I know it too soon but...”
“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy...”
“You don’t have to say it back or anything, but...”
*I Love you*
*And I, you*
Why trudge through the agony of illusory waltz, when you know, all you want is to accept the challenge? High risk=High reward
The economics of a restrained romantic
“Sex and Love addict” “Collector of codependency” “Conspirator”