“You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinged my soul.” ~Julie-Jeanne-Eleonore de Lespinasse, Letter; 1774

How often must I cry for you, my love?

I have loved you from the first.

In truth, I did not feel my heart beat until you drew near.

You, my wandering star, brought me to life.

You set me in motion and put me on a path to pursue you through the cold desolate universe. I’ve endured everything for you.

I wander through the darkness, lost without your presence.

Knowing I was born to love you, my life is without purpose in your absence.

I divide my time between memories and tears.

I turn back the clock to relive our past, because the present is no gift and the future means nothing without your love.

My conversations with God end in broken breaths, so that He knows what I am incapable of saying.

I stand at the edge of space and time not daring to find you in my dreams, because I know I’ll only be seeing a ghost.

You, my love, are the phantom of my heart, but without you on the stage our opera is incomplete.

There are no words worthy of you. You are a goddess whose true name is unknown.

I can find no truth without you, and so I linger in a world of lies.

Sleep offers no comfort, and simply existing is not living.

The depth of my pain has run so deep that it has pierced my soul. My well of tears has nearly run dry and I shift from sorrow to anger at the prospect of losing you forever.

It’s as though I stand at the border of heaven and hell, teetering on the edge of a blade where bliss and torment lie on either side of tomorrow.

The next beat of my heart might break me.

My sanity could be lost.

My longing leaves me in the purgatory of affection and I struggle to cope with the ache that leaves a void in my heart.

I could die a thousand deaths without you, and not know what it means to truly feel alive. This is how much I have loved you, though I cannot count the number of times I have cried.

I only know that I loved you last.

I’ll continue to do so, until that moment in some far away place and time, the horizon of my life where I’ll be incapable of knowing whether I am day or night, asleep or awake, love or hate.

You, my wandering star.

2 thoughts on “ROMANTIC MUSINGS: My Wandering Star

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