i don't quite have the words for it, but i fucking hate that post: "If he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. If he writes her three hundred sonnets, he loves sonnets." there's similar versions of it everywhere: if you take pictures of someone too much, you like taking pictures, not the person. if you make them dinner every night, maybe you just like making dinner.
maybe - and this is true - love can be both. love can be - i'm good at this thing, and i love doing it, but i love you and it feels worthwhile to make it for you.
i take pictures of my friends so i can look at them later. i also love taking pictures, and i love my friends being in those pictures. i write her poems because i love writing poems, but she is why i love, and that makes love poems worth writing. i've made you something, because i love to make, and i love to make for you. i will invent and create and it will all be for you, because each time i think i can do it better.
who are you, to look at my motivations, to declare - i've done it, i've gotten to the heart of the matter - when instead you have ripped the heart right out of the matter entirely? love can be three hundred sonnets. it can be saying - i have only one way to express this, and i will do it, over and over again. i cannot get the image of you out of me.
how dismal, to live in a world where you believe there is a cap on how much love can be perceived. that the way any person loves is so shallow that it only survives if it hasn't undergone writing. that it can only outlast a few songs, and afterwards, the music is devoid of meaning.
i love you, i will do the dishes for you three hundred times - and i do not love it, i just love that it is easier for you. i love you, i will, if you let me, spend three hundred mornings drinking coffee next to you. and we can both love coffee, and love that it tastes different to drink coffee beside you, and love our mornings. i love you, i will write you three hundred sonnets if you want me to, but, as a warning - i'm not particularly good at rhyming.
capture love however you can. surround yourself in it. there are never enough memories. there is never enough time. there are never enough ways to hold onto it. write and make louder. i want your three hundred poems. i want to be loved so hard that you will spend hours on the sculpting of iambic pentameter. i want you to love without a horizon, so it stretches out so far around you that you cannot help but make, and sing, and mend.
