[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] by e.e cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                                      i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)


used to be one of my favorite poems sigh but flowery language really doesn't mean anything to me anymore.  the point of hurt is that it is raw and painful and jarring and cutting yet we lace it with beautiful words and run-on lines and sentences that really don't mean a thing
it's a kind of romanticisation i guess
it really gets so hard sometimes. it really really really does. been a pretty lousy week & i don't know what else to do.  other than to get by
it's always just getting by isn't it
i'm still waiting for the tides to recede