A Healthy Love

Is it love that brings me to my feet?  The cliché of love bringing us to our knees smacks of an unhealthy codependency and the loss of self. Don’t get me wrong I long for a love filled with codependence in pull me up energy because we all need a lift at times and if the ardor of love rings with true reciprocity she pulls me up when my flag lilts.

 The delight of love is tenuous especially when the communiqués become sideways glances and dilated pupils.  And the lexicon of: “You should know,” make the ties that bind loose shoe strings that leave us frustrated and resentment bound.  Time well spent is when  intentions are made clear and the result that some of those wishes will be granted instead of a growing silent scorn as our needs not having been met.

Meeting love on my two feet gives me the balance to craft my amorous breath in a sustainable bliss even though swept off my feet is the romantic notion dreams are made of like the white knight for her and twinkle of violet in a brown eyed girl.  I can still enjoy the thrill of love while standing up and wide awake because love in dreamscape inevitably has the white cloud turn black under the weight of life on life’s terms.