No, she’s too much,

and you shouldn’t let her.

She’s quite chatty—

I’m not sure if I like that.

And her heart

Oh, that pitiful thing.

Why does she love that way?

Has she no mind for what she says?

It’s pathetic,

that kind of devotion,

that form of submission,

as if the stars shine brighter to her eyes.

Don’t let her get too close,

she’ll never let you leave.

Or, alternatively,

push you far enough away that you’ll forget her name

and the way her smile grew when she spoke of it.

 

Lover of life. Lover of love.

She’s far too much.

And it’s rather discomfiting.

 

She calls it passion

when it’s merely madness.

 

​​

— A.M. Sención

10.02.2023