Maybe I really love him,
I thought, at 230 this morning. Maybe this burning in my heart- this heave in my chest, this …
Bile rising up in my throat?
Maybe you really love him. Or her. Maybe this burning in your heart and that heaving in your chest- that bile? Yes. That’s bile. That sour taste. That heart burn. Burning.
Those tears. Burning.
Maybe it’s love. We think. But we aren’t thinking at all.
This is not love. The queen is up and pacing the floor. That’s all. This is fear.
I’ll be alone forever.
I made a mistake.
He never really loved me.
He really loved me and I blew it.
Shhhh. It’s 230 am and you’re tired. The planets have lined up in some conspicuous pattern of conspiracy and ow- Damn it, this hurts. The queen, the lizard, the ego, the bile- are rising…let yourself fall. This isn’t love. You know that, at your core- IN your core. You know love when you feel it because it feels GOOD- because it lifts you up-it blazes you forward- it doesn’t burn you down.
And you do love him. Or her. You did. You have. You might. But that’s not what wakes you in the night. Fear is what startles you awake. Drags you through the hours, fretting and replaying and tortuous. But love, she’s calling- can you hear her?
Shhh. Be still and know- I am? You are. All that you need, you are. Sleep now- that peace, that whisper on your eyelids, that’s love. Love is rest. Love is, Come here and let me hold you until you fall asleep, my love. I love. Me?