An Egocentric and yet Selfless babbling of idea…
Heres my idea of love, Tell me and share with me your ideas of love. Make it as long as you please, I just want to know what love is..
What is love.
Ive been through this game enough to know that I don’t believe in love.
There’s only been two people, That I thought I was in love with. Now I’ve loved plenty, I’ve said it, Ive done, I’ve made it. But as far as being in it…Only two. One told me to fu*k off , Dropped out of High School, got pregnant , And I never heard from her again. She could be dead for all I know, and It doesn’ bother me. The other, Would never love me back, because the reasons she would have loved me, were the limitations. So it was a perpetual existance of friendship. So what is that.
Thats not love, thats not friendship, thats being used and using. Thats the apple needing the seed to carry on, And the seed needing the apple to carry on. Its a joint soul progression, without the hearts being attached. It’s the few seconds before the nuclear holocaust begins, The time frozen by the camera that will never get developed, That simply is the last drop of water that overflows the sink, and the last spec of dust that breaks the back of so many. It’s not love. It’s the deteration of lone survival. In the end we all end up alone, And our whole lives we prepare to be with others. It’s right and it’s wrong, but it’s not love.
Love is painted by the paintbrush of movie directors and the art is still life pictures of superstars locked in an embrace. Love ends happily ever after, And I’ve seen far too many people die without either of those. So tell me, How can love be real, if its just the images on a movie reel. I’ve felt sh*t , sure, But I had those very same feelings when Rhett Butler told Scarlett “There’s one thing I do know… and that is that I love you, Scarlett”, Then a few undetermined amount of minutes later saying with such confidence, after hearing his beloved Scarlett cry in confusion to his name. “Frankly My Dear, I don’t give a d*mn”
Exit Rhett, Enter me. Subsitute me with him and would I be able to say the same. No, I wouldn’t. So what is love , but the limitations. The things you DON’T do for someone to prove that you do care. And that scares me. That makes me scratch the hairs on my head, Because its what you do that proves you love someone right? But then why cant you do this or do that, But you gotta do that, to be in love. But you can’t do that, And by that I mean, adultrate, Look at another, Speak anothers name, See others, Call others, Be with others, Laugh at others jokes, How is that love.
Love is freedom, Love is trust, But what is it really, but the locking of each others mind, until there is nothing but the ending of time. Till death do us part. Im dead , My brain has shut down. Now what. The only thing I ever see is you, Is your name, Is your face, Is your jokes, Is you. But thats not love, Thats control. Thats the binding of my soul to earth, After its departed and ready to go onward. Thats not love.
Real Love is a dove flying above the covenant of the lost cove, As an elderly lady cooks on a log stove, To apease herself, Not her man. Love comes from inside first, Its impossible to love, when ya hate yourself. As the slow secondary guitar plays a slow meleody that is the backtrack of your life, You think you feel love. But thats just ya mind, playing tricks on you again.
See I’ve been in love two times. And both of those, ended with broken hearts, So my heart has been broken in two then in four. How will I ever love again. , The peices are still scattered about the floor, and my contacts are at your house….How will I ever know what love is again. You took my heart, and my sight. Now thats a sight. Four stars, critics love it. I read in the paper the other day, A retro review for Titanic, And my local critic said “Now thats love”.
All I can do is sit.
What is love, baby dont hurt me, dont hurt me no more.
That’s what love is….Love is pain. Love is the heartbreak. Love is the determental afterthought , Love exists soloey after its demise. So please, go ahead and break my heart again, I miss that feeling of love, Darling. Break it, Break it across your knee and break with a hammer. Shatter that b*tch. Grab a mallet and compose your work of symphonic art titled “Dust of a Heart”. I want you to make my heart not exist, so I can feel that love forever, baby.
Show me love. Again and again, Kill me baby, Bury these bones And stare at my gravestone. Everyday. Love me. Again. My baby.
This open post was written 10 months, 2 weeks ago | V/U/S: 387, 6, 6 | Edit Post | Leave a reply | Report Post
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Since writing this post retrospace18 may have helped people, but has not within the last 4 days. retrospace18 is a verified member, has been around for 1 year, 8 months and has 30 posts and 514 replies to their name.
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retrospace18 edited this post 10 months, 2 weeks ago. Read the previous text »
An Egocentric and yet Selfless babbling of idea… Heres my idea of love, Tell me and share with me your ideas of love. Make it as long as you please, I just want to know what love is..
What is love.
Ive been through this game enough to know that I don’t believe in love.
There’s only been two people, That I thought I was in love with. Now I’ve loved plenty, I’ve said it, Ive done, I’ve made it. But as far as being in it…Only two. One told me to fu*k off , Dropped out of High School, got pregnant , And I never heard from her again. She could be dead for all I know, and It doesn’ bother me. The other, Would never love me back, because the reasons she would have loved me, were the limitations. So it was a perpetual existance of friendship. So what is that.
Thats not love, thats not friendship, thats being used and using. Thats the apple needing the seed to carry on, And the seed needing the apple to carry on. Its a joint soul progression, without the hearts being attached. It’s the few seconds before the nuclear holocaust begins, The time frozen by the camera that will never get developed, That simply is the last drop of water that overflows the sink, and the last spec of dust that breaks the back of so many. It’s not love. It’s the deteration of lone survival. In the end we all end up alone, And our whole lives we prepare to be with others. It’s right and it’s wrong, but it’s not love.
Love is painted by the paintbrush of movie directors and the art is still life pictures of superstars locked in an embrace. Love ends happily ever after, And I’ve seen far too many people die without either of those. So tell me, How can love be real, if its just the images on a movie reel. I’ve felt sh*t , sure, But I had those very same feelings when Rhett Butler told Scarlett “There’s one thing I do know… and that is that I love you, Scarlett”, Then a few undetermined amount of minutes later saying with such confidence, after hearing his beloved Scarlett cry in confusion to his name. “Frankly My Dear, I don’t give a (email removed)
Exit Rhett, Enter me. Subsitute me with him and would I be able to say the same. No, I wouldn’t. So what is love , but the limitations. The things you DON’T do for someone to prove that you do care. And that scares me. That makes me scratch the hairs on my head, Because its what you do that proves you love someone right? But then why cant you do this or do that, But you gotta do that, to be in love. But you can’t do that, And by that I mean, adultrate, Look at another, Speak anothers name, See others, Call others, Be with others, Laugh at others jokes, How is that love.
Love is freedom, Love is trust, But what is it really, but the locking of each others mind, until there is nothing but the ending of time. Till death do us part. Im dead , My brain has shut down. Now what. The only thing I ever see is you, Is your name, Is your face, Is your jokes, Is you. But thats not love, Thats control. Thats the binding of my soul to earth, After its departed and ready to go onward. Thats not love.
Real Love is a dove flying above the covenant of the lost cove, As an elderly lady cooks on a log stove, To apease herself, Not her man. Love comes from inside first, Its impossible to love, when ya hate yourself. As the slow secondary guitar plays a slow meleody that is the backtrack of your life, You think you feel love. But thats just ya mind, playing tricks on you again.
See I’ve been in love two times. And both of those, ended with broken hearts, So my heart has been broken in two then in four. How will I ever love again. , The peices are still scattered about the floor, and my contacts are at your house….How will I ever know what love is again. You took my heart, and my sight. Now thats a sight. Four stars, critics love it. I read in the paper the other day, A retro review for Titanic, And my local critic said “Now thats love”.
All I can do is sit.
What is love, baby dont hurt me, dont hurt me no more.
That’s what love is….Love is pain. Love is the heartbreak. Love is the determental afterthought , Love exists soloey after its demise. So please, go ahead and break my heart again, I miss that feeling of love, Darling. Break it, Break it across your knee and break with a hammer. Shatter that b*tch. Grab a mallet and compose your work of symphonic art titled “Dust of a Heart”. I want you to make my heart not exist, so I can feel that love forever, baby.
Show me love. Again and again, Kill me baby, Bury these bones And stare at my gravestone. Everyday. Love me. Again. My baby.
Polak_:]
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