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| One of my poems "IMPERFECT LOVE"
by baron_samedi at 5/2/2008 11:23:11 AM
Imperfect Love
I couldn't be what he wanted me to be. I am myself and no one else. I am barely starting to love myself and accept my flaws. I can't have him destroying what I am working so hard to build. He has changed so much since last I saw him. He has become everything we swore we would never become. I have awlays been stronger than him. Money can't change me. I am a hard worker and I have been broke before. The world can't change me it's as fickle as the weather. Fame can't change me. Others can be the sun; I have no problem being the moon. Once you attain power you become a slave to it and begin to resemble what people expect you to be. That can never be me. I could never have followed him. Even though I loved him.
I loved him because I saw what he hid inside. The hungry little child who needed to be held. The ranch boy with dreams of leaving the confines of his wooden fence for more cosmopolitan pursuits, pleasures and freedom. That's whom I fell in love with. I fell in love with the man who had nothing. No money. No car. Just a pocket full of dreams and the will to make them come true. This is whom I fell in love with. Some now days feel that this type of love is doomed. In the old days, this love was simply called true. I refuse to believe love is a business deal. I refuse to hold the perspective that love is the signing of documents merging two entities and assets only to separate and gut each other over the combined assets and interest earned. This is the modern archetype of love. In my eyes, this is merely greed. Greed has nothing to do with love.
Perhaps my idea of love is imperfect. That is quite possible. Maybe I have a romanticized vision of what love is. I still love to be given flowers. Orchids especially. I love moon lit walks on the beach and stolen kisses when no one is looking. I love to hold hands with someone that loves me and that I love. To snuggle and watch movies in bed with only to fall asleep holding each other. To make each other laugh so hard that we cry. To hold each other when we are vulnerable and broken. To protect each other when danger is near. To make sacrifices for one another and not resenting them afterwards. These are all expressions of the truest love unadulterated or perverted by the modern eras "Prêt aporter " version. His version of what love is.
But the hungry child he was needed more than my everything. He needed the glamour, the night, the drinks and the sex. He needed the touch of men who could take him to where he wanted to be. Everywhere. Affluence. Influence. He needed to run as far from the ranch as possible and taste all the delicacies of the privileged. He is no longer looking from the outside in. He now is looking form the inside out. He looks at me from his world. I look at him form mine. I know that the man I fell in love with existed at one point. Many people say he was always as he is now. I don't believe this. I however, do accept that fact that the man I fell in love with is dead and gone. That which remains is a shallow husk remotely resembling a man that I know was great. Maybe I say this because I know his head rests on another's pillow now.
Every once in a while when our eyes meet he gives me a secret smile. A smile that no one can see. A smile one gives when is sorry but hopes you accept things as they are. It's a most tender and gentle smile. I smile back. A real smile. If you love someone and they don't choose you. You cannot hate them. You cannot hurt or defile the choice that they made. If you do? Then what you felt for that person wasn't love at all.
Imperfect Love. Its called unconditional love and sometimes it seems heaven sent and sometimes it does not. I love him enough to let go and accept him as he is and accept whom he is with now. That's how much I love him. Unconditionally. The truest love is imperfect. Therein lies its perfection. Only then can one be truly free and happy with ones self.
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