Poem: A Good Vent

A Good Vent
by me

"Are you sure you aren't afraid to get hurt?"
she asked me, raising her voice slightly,
with something which sounded like hope.
"Yes," I said slowly,
"Yes, I am sure."
But as soon as I had
said it
I realized it wasn't true.
I thought about it for the next couple of days.
First I thought:
"Well, maybe it's 30% afraid for me and 70% afraid for them."
But that was not good enough,
the question stayed in my head.

Is it possible that _I_ am the one who is afraid of getting hurt?
Could it be?

Yes.

Damnit. Yes it could be.
But not so much a fear of being hurt,
as a fear of loosing control.

The Greatest Love I have yet known in this life
filled me with such a passion-
that I forgot everything else in life:
My job, my health, my future.
Everything meant nothing so long as I could be with her.

In the end,
both of our worlds had been destroyed by our passion.
I look back upon the rubble now.

I am different these days, to be sure.
I have learned and grown and prospered.

But I do not trust Love,
nor its effects on me.
In the same way a Sober Alcoholic
doesn't trust a drink.
Its nothing against the drink,
it brings pleasure to many.
But if you are the type that will let the drink kill you,
well, you get the idea.

So I take my Love in small doses, these days.
The milder side of love:
Time with friends, warm moments of innocent flirtation, a rare date.

My passion still boils to the surface from time to time,
but a good vent usually releases the pressure.

A Good Vent