The Lovers

At 19, I loved you. Bouncy 19 year old boy, insatiable lover, sweetheart. You’re still my friend. I smile, for it.

At 24, I loved you. Egotistical, full of sweet nothings. You had no idea who you were. Neither did I. Thank you for introducing me to my favorite author. My favorite singer.

At 27, I loved you. Older, casually boring. Too stable for this wandering star. Too something. Not enough of something else.

At 30, I loved you. Beautiful, intense, insane. We were volatile. The passion though, Oh, the passion. Who could pass on all the P’s. But you scared me and no one wants to live like that. Love, this thing. So strange.

At 32, I loved you. Gentle and funny. I knew straight away. We laughed, a lot. We were like the best of friends. But you had things to do, things to explore. You broke my heart. I still miss you. The friend. The lover. The only person, I’ve travelled to another dimension with. But our love has to live beyond these walls, past those green mountains of my childhood, to the pyramids of time.

And that is Love. And that is part of my life and all of my heart.

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