If you must love me
Let it be for nought except for love’s sake only.
One day, I wish you would care enough to gently ask for my permission to give you the key to my lunar valley, which opens its gate once every blue moon. I wish you would feel excited enough to run in the wild berries field of my writer’s garden that I planted with so much mental energy, watering the lines from old poets that speak to my heart, hoping you would understand a bit more about me.
Because I am a damned, horrible storyteller with indigestible things on my mind. And I don’t have any idea how to spell it out to you, so I am seeking their words instead.
So when you ask me if you can love me, if you must love me, this is my answer.
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Do not come to my doorstep just because you adore my outer gown. For once you get to know me, the monster living inside of me will gradually introduce herself and you will see me nothing close to pretty. And a thing as fragile as my heart, once you’re gone and continue with your travel days, will only be left open, wounded, then stoned.
And don’t you dare patting my head, wiping my cheek dry, and easing my momentary pain just for your own entertainment. I do not need your pity, I do not want to be trapped in the game of one-sided love based on such an obscure foundation.
But love me for love’s sake only. That is the beginning and ending you must seek for our eternal happiness.
And one day when I say, “I love thee,” please know that every syllable and every tiniest note that comes with it are formed through years and years of love, as if the word ‘love’ itself does not do any justice to the heart that has been consuming everything about you so tenderly, so passionately, so anguishedly, so hopelessly longing for you.
So, do you care enough now to wonder more about me?
Do not seek me for an answer, but seek the poets instead. They’ll give you the most fragrant flowers out of my writer’s garden.
PS: I always feel clueless when it comes to love. So, I look for others’ thoughts instead. And isn’t that why we love reading so much?
