Deep and Deeper...

Expecting more than giving is sentencing love to death. If I want to be cherished before I cherish you... You can't expect a fireplace to burn for you without trying to light it up. You can, but what are the chances? You won't receive the love you are not giving.

I show you my darkest and most sinful version, become vulnerable to you, so you can find the courage to do the same. I want you to have my back; and here I am, trying to be your spine. But this is not to say give and feel like you're owed.

No. Just because I give you, does not mean you owe me. I show you me, because I wish to have someone who can see all of me and be proud, not because you must now do the same. I give you my hand to lift you up, because I feel happy when you're spirits are lifted, not because you're now under the obligation to lift me up as well.

I don't love you because I owe you some amount of love. I love you, because I choose to, because I am a better person when I'm in love with you, because you deserve a passionate life, and because nobody else takes me to the world you take me to. I feel you, and I feel you feeling me.

I love you because you look alive when you're loved. You smile brighter and cry openly when I love you. Needing to be wanted and hugged as you are, you show me parts of yourself which you're ashamed of. I see it all and then I take all of you as mine. Your eyes are full of happy tears when you know that I love you even in your worst version, the version you punish yourself for. I light up your nights, and your heart burns for me. Through what I give you, I enjoy the only life I'll have, craving for more of you. The beauty in you and the ugly in you... I'm here for both.

I've been learning about love for a while—I'm getting a better grip on it. There are no overnight successes, and so is true for love. Our mothers have worked damn hard to deserve our love: 9 months of struggle, painful labor, unresting care, feeding the best meal their pockets can afford, protecting us when everybody else turned against us. Love is not a spark you feel for a moment and disappears. That's not love; that's called a whim (a random interest). Love is an art, and I'm mastering it with you, baby... for you. I told you to call me "An Artist," haven't I???