there's so much to say,
and nothing at all.
speculation is pointless,
and so are the visions that haunt me when i look at you.
you don't need me on your conscience.
and i don't need you on mine.
...the little lies i tell the part of myself that always wants a little more. the strumpet who's never content with just one.
there are so many dull, inconsequential meetings in life. it's a shame to waste the ones that could mean something more.
...that doesn't mean i don't enjoy monogamy. i do.
but i have a lot of love to give.
i want to share. it's a compulsion.
sometimes, one person's not enough to hold it all.
it'd be invigorating to have the freedom to say, "wait for me a moment, please, while i love this person a little closer to divinity. i'll be back directly. i promise."
i don't break my promises. i would return--and allow you to love as necessary in the meantime.
i'm sure it would only happen once every few years, at most.
but who could stand that?
i have learned that most people have just enough love for themselves--if that--and that, sometimes, they're able to squeeze out enough for the mates that come along. or the children that come along the way.
a paucity of love makes beings selfish, insecure. believers in lack.
i hate that fact profusely. it limits my movement in the world.