I am the push and pull and the waves that move according to nothing. Those several weeks when I cry at empty space feel like an eternity compared to the times I cling to you with nothing but love and admiration. During the former, I shed no tears and have no qualms. But then the serenity, the honest and clear emotions slip away from me, leaving a relentless black hole behind and you are the first to suffer of it. I'm certain you are unable to feel my love as it practically doesn't exist then. What a torture it must be to watch and feel the torrents pull us under. What a torture it is to fall in and out of love repeatedly, considering running away each time.
Sometimes when the fog clears and my feminine despair subsides, I see you again. I look at you, regard you, seeing the face I fell in love with. My heart stops and resets bombarded with curious pains and sweet emotions. It's as if memories are restored and I remember who you are. The composition of your face and body strikes me down and all I can do is hang on, hoping it will bleed into my next cycle.
How much I envy you for your ability to stay consistent...
