i think

"Il m'aime,
un peu,
beaucoup,
passionn�ment,
� la folie,
pas du tout"

i like to think a lot.
i like to think, that sometimes, people i loved might think of me.
i think of them.
i think. i believe, that the little parts of me
that i give away-
to those. sometimes undeserving. sometimes worthy of much more.
will never be retrieved, but perhaps i think
i'm happy to leave them where they are.
and sketches and poems that were inspired by such
passion, now dead and never to be kindled again, i think
are not a crime.
i think we have loved, and we love.
i think that mostly i forgive and am forgiven.
i spoke to a friend, and i said that i thought
human nature is inclined to these sudden passions and predicaments.
we cannot control them, i think.
i think that waking up next to somebody you adore is the most beautiful gift.
and i think that the pain of losing them is just as beautiful.
i think they have a time for their final exeunt.
i think that i have been lucky.

and today, i thought, as i opened the door
into the inky night, and saw his figure there.
as i fell into his arms and breathed in the familiar
scent of his hair.
i thought that he was perfect.
i knew;
that we were perfect.