I’ve been thinking about lovelately.
Albeit, it’s more necessity than choice.
I’ve concluded: Love doesn’t make any goddamn sense to me. And it makes me angry because I think that may be the point.
Recently, I’ve heard This isn’t fair to you or You deserve that.
And sure, this might not be, and I might so.
But is that love?
Tallying what ought be mine,
claiming what is owed me,
demanding my needs are met first?
That might not be wrong.
I might be entitled to it all,
and maybe no one would condemn me.
Mary's One Hundred 