All heart


I don't have it in me to stop wanting her. She may want nothing from me, but all I want is her. I'm all heart, and my heart only wants her. How do I explain this to bystanders? How do I explain this to myself? 

She's lovely. She's perfect. She's all I want. If I ever thought I could get over her, that debate is over. There is no getting over a woman like her. There is only surviving life without her and somehow breathing and getting by. There are stolen moments when one does not think of her. The rest of each and every day until the day one dies is one thought after another of only her. 

 
You can call me what you want. I've surpassed my own measure of foolishness, so your opinion is of no worth. I'm content to spend the rest of my days in love with the memory of her if that's all I can have. It would be much better than to try to love (and to fail to love) a lesser creature. The heart wants what it wants.

She's gone from my life, but she is not gone from my heart. It wages a war that no one else sees. It grasps for her every day. It reaches out fruitlessly every moment, so sure she's right around the corner. And ever turn is empty. But that's no matter. 

A heart that loves is never defeated, this I know. A heart that aches never aches forever. A part of me is sure she'll be in my life again. And that part rules all the others. It's the biggest part of me. You see, I'm all heart. 

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