Arcadia

68

If there ever is a choice, choose weight. Choose to be weighed down to earth by a loved one, choose to be weighed down like someone in love.

Choose love, darling. Always choose love.

...

Some days, my body fills up with love and I can almost feel its weight. I feel like my life has been lived in a stranger's lips in Vienna, in Agra, under the sea, or on the train, and the taste still lingers. The taste of him lingers, everywhere, on my lips, under my skin, in my room, even in my coffee. I am in love, I think, and almost wish I could die right now when I reek of salt lips and him. I want somebody to touch me, to feel me, to kiss me numb. I want to be someone's poem. I want to be like somebody in love.

Some days, are love poems meant to be lived in. Today is one of them.