Hello SofieR, I hope this finds you well.
Love is always seen in any art, any word, any look, and any feel deemed as perfect but never thought of as far from it.
"On paper, you were a perfect resume.
A candidate, more than qualified. Ticked all the boxes. All the makings
Of a perfect match."
Just because something is perfect, doesn't make it right. I would like to say that the heart is more than a conundrum, but it wouldn't have so much thought put towards it if the heart was anything less. A tree can be green, the same as a plant, and check all the boxes that they are the same in color and nothing short of perfect, but if green isn't your favorite color does it do the job of making you feel alive, or simply just trying to survive?
"And this is why
My heart sank down to a new low,
When we sat down at a table
In the middle of a crowded coffee house,
And after twenty minutes
Ran out of things to say.
See, there is a river in me,
Raging on full of love
That I have been holding back.
Keeping at bay.
And I'm poised at the ready
to break the levy and let all my love
wash over this perfect someone
I've dreamt up in my mind."
It is hard to be the barrier against yourself, your cups overfilling and threatening to domino through your walls. Anything can be the crack in your self-defenses, anything can be the hammer against the stones in your walls. You could always be ready at the gate of the castle you built, waiting, always waiting for the craft of your dreams to show and not be the figment of your imagination. It makes one wonder if we ask too much, or too little.
"And what a shame.
And I'm so very sorry.
But that someone
Maybe it's foolish
To deny a perfect candidate.
To reject a sure thing
For a maybe.
But to settle for anything less
Than someone who fills
My stomach with butterflies...
Is not who I am.
It's not who I am."
Love is the complication that you can be so sure of yourself to the point of doubt, did I make the right choice, did I say the right words, did I hug them the right way. But no matter your doubts and your worries and the number of fights you have had, you would never make a different choice. The pain is the flavor your choose, same as the love, and lust is the thing you crave. The butterflies are the colors you choose, and you never have to convince yourself otherwise.
"I will always choose solitude
Over pretending to love someone I don't
Every time. Every day. /Everywhere./
I will wear the solitude like a crown.
But, oh god.
Heavy is the head.
Heavy is the head.
Heavy is the head."
We will always choose an unforgiving path for the ones we love, for the things we love.
All in all, it was a wonderful read.
Keep creating beautiful art, and dance in the rain when things seem hard.