my Michelle

"Well, well, well you never can tell
well, well, well my Michelle

Everyone needs love
You know that it's true
Someday you'll find someone
That'll fall in love with you
But oh the time it takes
When you're all alone
Someday you'll find someone
That you can call your own
But till then ya better ..."
-GnR

I love.

I think it is love. I'm not exactly sure. I haven't ever loved before to my knowledge. And yet, I think I love. There is a darkness swelling up inside of me that I can't identify. It resembles the shadows of my dreams, my nightmares that I can't remember. It feels like the same absence of light. Ravenous blackness eating its way outward from inside of me.

What is love? Is it an emotion? Is it a feeling? It isn't like that with me. It is a drive, a force, a directive to do and protect and to be something for someone else. There is no emotion in it for me. It does not feel cold or warm. I just want to ... do.

She is so small and frail and I wish I knew why she was different for me. Different than any other human I have ever met either here or on earth. I am tormented by her eyes and her smile and her fingers. I feel my chest ripping outward with this swelling of intention. She makes me imagine I am bigger and stronger. What does this mean?

I was following her. I was scaling the cylinders and jumping and swinging from walk to walk above the street. When there were no ropes I used the small spaces between the stones working my way over ramparts. My fingers are sore and bloody but I did not even notice as I kept her in my sights. I came to rest on a bastion when she stopped and it was then I noticed the beautiful people. So busy. So consumed. I was distracted.

I paused to perch upon the precipice of parapet and I pondered the portent of my pretentiousness and somewhere in the process I lost possession of my prey.