are you whose heart has been whored

"Why love, if losing hurts so much? I have no answers anymore: only the life I have lived. Twice in that life I've been given the choice: as a boy and as a man. The boy chose safety, the man chooses suffering. The pain is now part of the happiness then. That's the deal." - C.S. Lewis, "Shadowlands"


Perhaps, love is first a wild and wistful wing of which dreams fly beyond our volition. Then, love transforms into a tight tethering; thick frayed ropes of stifling suspicion.

In a perfect world, love has no restraint. Then again, nothing lives and matures without taint. And yes, it is moments like this -- black and blue creep up into your heart so eerily, yet so elegantly. Like a symphony of tears and heartbreak; whispering in your ears. A spear to your heart. A sword to your soul. Circumstances are circumstantial; you take as much as you can. The salt will always sting the most; like C.S. Lewis, the boy will always out-dream the man.

Just as I finally threw out all the things that would remind me of you, a simple "Sorry" was uttered. Enmity or hatred, an apology can't cut the roots of resentment. I once read, "Forgiveness is the final form of love." Then, I guess -- this raw, unrelenting, unattained, unconquered love shall only exist in Sex and The City or Disney classics.

Quite simply, the real deal is this -- love needs some dirt to grow. That's mine to keep.