love

A rose most red.

“O my luve’s like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June…” -Robert Burns

I’ve always loved this particular poem by Burns because it paints such an intricate portrait of the beauty of love. I can imagine the bright hue of a newly bloomed red rose and I can feel it in my own love. I’ve always looked at the way I love to be a refreshing, welcomed guest in people’s lives. I’ve been told so by many. Now, as I grow and mature, I’m starting to wonder if I am much more. Most days I feel like an entire field of spring roses. I feel like my love stretches beyond a backyard garden and swallows up large hillsides, waiting for throngs of people to come pick a piece of my heart.

I fall in love with many people, places and things. I desire to love them all with a fierceness that overwhelms me. Most people will relate to that statement and agree that, they too, fall in love just as much as I do. But they don’t. I’ve never met a single soul that understands how I feel. I’ve never even met a person I felt comfortable enough to divulge this information to. Needing vast outlets for depositing huge amounts of love is exhausting. Trying to explain to people how I love is exhausting. There is only one me but my heart feels large enough to fill the bodies of 20 people.

Pause.

Think of how many people you love, have loved and will love over your lifetime. Remember the ways you spent countless hours thinking of them, worrying about them, loving them until their heart was full to bursting. Now imagine adding about 1,000 more people, places and things to the mix. Turn the intensity of your love to the max. Break the freaking knob off. Now,

Speed it up.

Think faster.

Think more.

Think longer.

Feel deeper.

Feel harder.

Worry more.

Love better.

Love more.

Love urgently.

Can you breathe?

Can you think?

Can you even feel?

Welcome to my heart. It bleeds as brightly as a spring rose.

 

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