I wrote this poem in my notes some time ago. Ever so often I get a poetic itch as a way to express or expel the intellectualization of my feelings and thoughts about a particular matter. I wrote this while processing my last committed relationship and while observing close friends navigate their romantic relationships. But it’s not only about romance. And I wondered if I’ll always feel like an observer.
amg
& maybe love is just an illusion.
Tricks of the trade.
Lights and smoke.
Props on sets.
Maybe it’s meant for some but not for me.
Meant for those who can keep. Those who can always win. Those who’ve earned it.
Maybe it’s for them and not me.
Those who become satisfied by a sip.
Those who take a bite and become full.
Those who don’t need second servings or dessert.
Maybe love is for you and not for me.
For those who lead with their hearts and heads—
Who stay longer than the hours it takes to come to their senses.
Or for those who mean it.
Maybe love is not for me.
At least not for me to have. Only for me to give.
Maybe it’s only for me to watch in others, maybe that’s the only place I’ll feel it.
Maybe I will never be full & this is all that I will have.
Maybe this part of my heart will always be vacant.
Maybe it’s time to stop searching.
—Maybe, the next lifetime.