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Poetry & Art

The Love

The Love

 

The Love lives deep inside my frail body.

It screams and twists, begging to be let out.

 

Alas, I cannot.

 

Day after day The Love sits in the middle of my ragged, beating heart. A heart that once had it all, before it was crushed from the inside.

“Let me out!” The Love calls. “It is dark and small in here, I can’t breathe!”

 

Alas, I cannot.

 

The Love doesn’t understand, there is nowhere for it to go. “You must stay inside.” I respond. “You simply cannot wander the Earth until you find her again.”

 

With every passing week there is less and less space, and The Love grows more and more cramped. The pleading persists, and some days it’s almost too much to bare. On those days I write. The pen to the paper, the words leaving my head and entering reality, those are the only moments of silence I get. The Love sits patiently and waits, as if it knows that as soon as I lay my pen down I’ll have no choice but to keep listening.

 

“Free me!” It begs. “It’s terrible in here, I must go somewhere at once!”

 

Alas, I cannot.

 

“You will end up in the wrong hands.” I explain. “I do not trust you out there on your own, it is too cold.”

 

So every day The Love rages on, furious at being trapped atop my broken heart with nowhere to go. The Love felt it was much too powerful to be stuck inside such a small, dark place with the likes of Pain and Fear. The Love needed to be free.

 

“I will find her.” The Love pleads. “I promise if you let me out I will find her for you.”

 

Alas, I cannot.

 

“A fine trick you’ve tried to play on me.” I tell it. “I’m no fool, you must stay here and wait for her to come to you. YOU would bring anybody back here; you would be our ruin…”

 

The Love would scoff, and offer me more sweet lies. I knew better, I knew what was to be gained, and I knew what would have been lost. So I silently ignored The Love’s pretty words. The Love was bitter; it would get Pain to send memories to my head and tears to my eyes. Or it would instruct Fear to send sleepless nights, or worse yet, nights when I only dreamed of her face.

 

“Let me out or you’ll never see her again!” It would threaten, or sometimes it would coax. “Let me go find her for you, let me tell her what I’ve seen here.”

 

Clever little beast, trying to get me to waiver, as I had done before.

 

Alas, I cannot.

 

“You will stay right here!” I demand. “Out there you would be chaos, so you will wait right here until she comes to you, and you will stay silent until she asks to see!”

 

“That could take forever.” The Love complained. “It WILL take forever.”  I replied woefully.

 

“So trust me.” The Love was trying it’s very best to win me over softly. “Think of how happy you could be…”

 

Alas, I cannot.

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by Amahlia Perry-Farr

I'm a 27 year old writer from Kentucky, and this is my second year in Chicago. I have fallen in love with this city, and with the new oppurtunities for growth that it's given me. I feel like now more than ever, is the perfect time for me to share my words and my experiences with the world.

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