​Humidity of Love

I am a tiny droplet that turns a puddle into a sea— an anguish that gathers every storm for a catastrophe. It is intense, what I feel. Therefore, the humidity of too much love causes the suffocation of rot within me.

How am I supposed to admit defeat when there’s a horizon — an entire ecosystem — breathing inside me? I’m tired of being someone’s peace; I’m tired of being the saint you want me to be. May an autumn come that never leaves. But for today, let me be free.

~ S.