Fingertip Moments About Love On A Log
by Matt Carlson
Mothers never take their love away. It’s forever. It’s the stuff of fairies and dragons, but real magic. Lovers don’t do that. Their love is temporary, a fleeting foot of passion and circumstance. When they say so, it’s a suitcase filled with unfinished promises that they embark with, leaving you at the harbor. Their love is not forever. It’s briefly unpacked and in your possession, but what you hold is only temporary.
Along side those folded socks and wrinkled dress shirts, maybe a belt or two and some cuff links, lies the folded strings to your heart. They will attach them to someone new, something newer than you, where the answers to his or her questions won’t be the same, where they can delve into the eyes of someone else. Still not you.That suitcase is not ours, not yours. It’s a lending of love based on conditions. It’s a capitalist love affair: “As long as I’m making a profit here….”
On your side or mine – all is a metaphor – we see the blood staining us there, from some strands of strings painfully still attached to our hearts….so we take out a big pair of scissors and cut, cut, cut ! But the scissors have a dull blade and we find ourselves cutting without precision. It hurts too as we end up frantically pulling with fingers and hacking at the strings, now sinewy threads… A throbbing constant pain inside; we know we will never heal.That love vacation away from ourselves, that suitcase now packed & taken away was only a thought to begin with.Did I make it? Did someone else put it there in my mind?No matter, I still feel the weight of it.It lies there on my heart…