There Are No Absolutes — Are There?
My Criticisms professor, while discussing D.H. Lawrence, explained that there are no absolutes. According to Lawrence, there is no absolute good, and there is no absolute bad. I think he's wrong; but I don't blame him. Because only I've seen the absolute good, the absolute resolution in your eyes when they look at mine, the absolute kindness in your smile, the absolute warmth in your hands holding mine.
There is absolute bad too, the kind that brews in my stomach when I part with you, the absolute taste of bile that creeps up my throat at night when I miss your embrace. It's in the growing hunger begging for more of you at every sliver of touch. It's in the cruelness of the time we're kept apart.
However, I think he was somewhat right too; because even in the wickedness of missing you, is the righteousness of your love nestled between the kisses peppered on my face, your absolute goodness, like a spore that plants itself in my chest and blooms around my heart.
I'm not too sure about absolute bads but I know absolute good exists because it exists in you, suspended in your kindness. Its born in the cradle beneath your tongue, and I swear I can taste Lawrence's defeat every time I kiss you.
