i don’t think i’d posted this before…

i love you

i’m a witch, i’m a bitch, i nag and i snag
tearing apart the time you have free to be
or not. to be empty, to escape. to enter a haven.
i’d make a terrible 50’s housewife, and i’m nothing to be cravin’.

i’m self involved – i think most about what i want, what i “need,” what i think is right.
like why can’t you wake up earlier, and why can’t you spend more time with us, and why you can’t eat the leftover food
and why you can’t let go of anger, and why you have outbursts, and why it’s ok to act like you do when you are in a bad mood
and why i’m not your haven. why you don’t need me. why love isn’t what i thought it was. why romance is dead. why you and me?
and why… why… why.

i try to be different. i try to have compassion.
i try. try. try.
then that evil in me awakens, attacking what seems like a lack of passion,
saying that you aren’t trying.
that you are just existing, subsisting. on someone else?
i need to be spying.
you must be hiding something, or why wouldn’t you want to be with me more.
why should i try, it says, when you don’t? what is it for?

for it forgets how hard you work. and how much you need you time. even if i don’t get much me time,
or we get much we time. is it a memory we did before?
you deserve you more.
i know you don’t cheat, and you hide only from my judgment.
b.c i’m an evil bitch. a perfectionist, idealist, evil
female who has to have it her way no matter what is spent…

i don’t know how you put up with me. i am crazy. i am sane. i’m evenly contradictory. i’m perfectly imperfect. i’m easily difficult.
i’m unassumingly demanding. i am darkness. i am light. i breed peace. i pick a fight.
i’m emotional. i’m hormonal. i’m calmly intense. i think only i’m right. because of course, only i’m right.

sometimes i don’t know why i love you. all the time, i don’t know why you love me.
sometimes i think we must be confused, and only destined to destroy each other.
sometimes i’m scared, i thrash at the loss that has come, that chiseling of myself to fit with you.
but always, always, always, even in those sometimes, i love you.

i love you.

1/20/09 = 8 yrs