❝I ask the impossible: love me forever.
Love me when all desire is gone.
Love me with the single mindedness of a monk.
When the world in its entirety,
and all that you hold sacred advise you
against it: love me still more.
When rage fills you and has no name: love me.
When each step from your door to our job tires you—
love me; and from job to home again, love me, love me.
Love me when you’re bored—
when every woman you see is more beautiful than the last,
or more pathetic, love me as you always have:
not as admirer or judge, but with
the compassion you save for yourself
in your solitude.
Love me as you relish your loneliness,
the anticipation of your death,
mysteries of the flesh, as it tears and mends.
Love me as your most treasured childhood memory—
and if there is none to recall—
imagine one, place me there with you.
Love me withered as you loved me new.
Love me as if I were forever—
and I, will make the impossible
a simple act,
by loving you, loving you as I do.❞
— Ana Castillo, I Ask the Impossible (via decembrist)
❝Maybe I wasn’t asking you to love me, maybe I was asking you to understand, because for so long I’ve been hurt and for so long you’ve ignored it, and maybe it is bad timing, but maybe, I don’t care. I’ve been here all along just waiting, waiting for you to notice, waiting for you to care. Waiting for you to say that you’ve been waiting too, and you haven’t and maybe you never will or maybe you’re afraid to. But it all hurts the same, and in the end, I’m the one that’s left broken and when I lay down to sleep, I’m still the one crying, so screw the bad timing. I’ve loved you then, like I love you now, like I probably always will.❞