You realise the truth about ever-
it does involve sacrifice on occasions.
And it’s neither bad nor good,
in that Foucauldian way:
it just is, and needs to be faced.
For whilst Claire is the woman of my life,
I am not the man she might imagine as her thrive.
And so the situations repeat million-fold I’m sure:
across the globe and rock;
these roles of disagreement sad.
For the question of true love, on one part at least,
is never the real issue at all.
The truth of my love for Claire, as it stands,
is a feeling I know well;
a feeling that cannot be questioned;
a feeling without demand
It is made up of a complex network;
of a series of connections:
it started with guilt because of a girlhood I hurt;
and it ended with immense gratitude
because of her kindness,
But eternal love professed is never
eternal love achieved.
And so this is why it’s never enough
for the love which joins
two people together
to join together in true desire
the two entirely because of
In every act of love professed,
there is an another act
of grand uncertainty.
And once that stuff is broached so tough,
and coached into the open,
and couched in the most
we learn the hard truth
about humanity’s gentlest emotion:
just because I’ll always love you infinitely
doesn’t mean you’ll ever love me minimally.