Suruchi Sati1 like being stuck in a world of too much hate and disgrace everyone’s laughing and I need to keep a straight face like I’m down for the count after too many bouts like at the end of the day, only half my love counts. We act like we can measure love. We act like we can trade pleasure; like we can buy it, like a box of Lego blocks, like anything actually depends on whether or not we fit together; like human beings are a formula and aberrations can be tamed, like this is an aberration and aberrations can be blamed on anything except your ability to accept it.
Half my love makes me stop, brake twice as heart and this heart, double-size, can break twice as hard and this feeling rises fast – more people – twice the starts to my loves, twice the departures, twice the art and only half the reach. Only some to hear it because we’re not used to so much love, we’re scared to go near it. It’s a strange kind of love, not hate, but we fear it. It’s everywhere – as wide as wide goes, as deep as deep can be. There’s so much of it, but only half is what we can see. Half my love poems will not be heard until all love is treated equally. 02