Suffering is Only Bearable…

I just finished a poem to L. I’ve named it “Creation Remade.” If we are God’s creation, then we are remade each time we procreate.

Today, I was a little upset when I remembered a subtle threat that L made: if I put too much pressure on her choice between her career and our relationship, she would end the latter. I realize that this doesn’t mean she doesn’t love me, but it does indicate that I love her more than she returns it. For I would choose her over any source of money. She is priceless, worth more than the artificial importance of a job. How does she see me?

I know she loves me. That much she’s said. I know she needs time to learn how to show her love. That much, she’s told me, too. I need to be patient.

After work, I called my love. She misses me as much as I miss her. As I am nearly in tears when I think of her, she is afflicted with the same forlorness for me. My suffering is bearable knowing she shares the same.

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