Admit impediments.
Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Shakespeare 116
words so beautiful. moved to hope. upon testing it seems that the love i know is somewhat lacking. "love is not love which altars when it alteration finds" seems so simple. yet the reality of my days see another light. love is something that is given too easily and upon true test of life it breaks like a dried twig. maybe the ones i have chosen to love have not been right, but sometimes you cannot chose who you fall for. my own fear of pain fails me time and time again. i fall the hardest on those incapable of loving me when i need it the most. when i run away, when i fail, when i hurt. "or bends with the remover to remove: o no! it is an ever-fixed mark" all my life i will dream of someone who will back up action and words. who will cherish me when i am me. who will give everything to get me back when i run away. who will be steady in my chaos.
one might think that this fairy tale will not have its happy ending. i should hope that you the reader will not assume that this princess does nothing but yearn to be loved. no she works, plays and lives with fullness and passion. her life in this moment is more than complete, yet once in a blue moon it hits, this desire to be loved. this captivating thought of living in another's arms. the beauty of someone giving their all. one day her prince will come, for she will not settle for anything else
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Shakespeare 116
words so beautiful. moved to hope. upon testing it seems that the love i know is somewhat lacking. "love is not love which altars when it alteration finds" seems so simple. yet the reality of my days see another light. love is something that is given too easily and upon true test of life it breaks like a dried twig. maybe the ones i have chosen to love have not been right, but sometimes you cannot chose who you fall for. my own fear of pain fails me time and time again. i fall the hardest on those incapable of loving me when i need it the most. when i run away, when i fail, when i hurt. "or bends with the remover to remove: o no! it is an ever-fixed mark" all my life i will dream of someone who will back up action and words. who will cherish me when i am me. who will give everything to get me back when i run away. who will be steady in my chaos.
one might think that this fairy tale will not have its happy ending. i should hope that you the reader will not assume that this princess does nothing but yearn to be loved. no she works, plays and lives with fullness and passion. her life in this moment is more than complete, yet once in a blue moon it hits, this desire to be loved. this captivating thought of living in another's arms. the beauty of someone giving their all. one day her prince will come, for she will not settle for anything else
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