longevity in love

if i could paint us i would place us in the hardest soft-light i could find, the blurriest edges on the sharpest souls. coming apart at the seams with bodies still in tact. we are comfort. worn in like the shirt with the tears on its shoulders. the favorite corner of a blanket. shoes lacking soles.

i would paint you with holes, lover.

understand that we must not remain unmarred. i want all the massacre that i can handle to prove that passion is not always a saint, but a sinner, a thief that does not stop until he gets what he thinks he deserves.

i would hole-punch my heart if i could prove that we do not have to be whole to love completely.  

it takes so much mud for a lotus to grow purely. it takes so much death to appreciate a life. it takes so much destruction to build anything worth stabilizing. we do not need forever; we need a longevity that will stretch thin as the fibers in anything that has a desire to persevere.

so destroy me. remain alive. for the holiest part of loving is the pieces we leave behind.