the shade of flowers/poetry by k.h.

01

an essay i wrote in english class

Purple, the Shade of Romance.

You asked me about the things I fell in love with about the world. The things that whisper to my timid heart, "keep going." I told you I write. I told you that I was infatuated by the way words became our truths. Pen strokes became our veins and paper became our skin. Painting images of the most subtle of our emotions; the ones so deep we feel them in our chests, and know they will never reach the tip of our tongues. There are no limits here, we may write whatever we please, and for as long as we please, it shall stay. You told me to write about you. Beyond all things, I believe you were obsessed with your immortality.

Once this idea had come to fruition, you drew the finest line you could between love and hate. You nailed my feet to the ground, and told me to stay. With thirteen tattoos on your arms, you told me you were afraid of commitment. You gave me bruises and called it love. I stayed, you told me I would never find someone who loved me as much as you loved me. You gripped my vocal cords in your hand and willed them to stop rattling against your lies. This was not us, this relationship was not about Us. It was you, and me through the lens of you. There is such, a fine line, between love and hate.

They say love is blind. To that? I say hate. Hate is blind. My therapists taught me that you don't hurt the people you love. Love is a storm, yes, but it is a storm of warm wind that still kisses your skin. It is violently knocking at your door, love, Love. Love is a semi-truck driving at you with full force, a semi-truck made of feathers. It is a giant who still handles you with care. Yes, love can feel overwhelming, but it does not hurt.

k.h.