A Collection: Love Leaves Scars and Stories to Tell

A Collection: Love Leaves Scars and Stories to Tell

Kim Salac
Media Staff


i’m tired of love. of being told that love is going to fix the irrevocable loneliness of existence. because we’re not in love, are we? we’re in love with the idea of love. we’re just in love with the idea of permanence. we’re obsessed with permanence. and that’s a dangerous thing to be in love with.

          -  obsession


oscillating again
obsessing over permanence
your lover will leave you
and your mother will die
and your friend will marry
and you’ll be loveless again
what is love, anyway?

          -  what is love? (baby don’t hurt me)


when love calls, i don’t want to answer the phone
pixel hearts float above the screen


my mother does not call often,
but when she does, she always asks if i’m eating well

(it’s your food, of course i’m eating well)

my friend did leave me on read for a year
but she invites me to dinner quietly on friday

(will we return to what we were before?)

the first person i ever left my number for
does not call me back


but three weeks later
i stumble over the name of a boy in class

(not again)

when love calls i cringe and toss and let the phone ring
hiding under covers, staring bitterly into mirrors

(14 missed calls)

love leaves; love calls back again
timidly, i answer the phone

          -  when love calls


i make promises, i break them
i love people, i hate them
forever is fickle,
so love must be too
how can i love
knowing the truth?

          -  dear valentine


here is my promise to you:
i will love you today
i will love you with everything i have
and when tomorrow becomes today, i will love you again
and when the day after tomorrow becomes today, i will love you again
and again and again
each day i will love you more
(and sometimes the same if you leave the bathroom floor wet again)
but never less
there are no tomorrows or yesterdays
but rest assured i love you here, and now
i love you, i love you, i love you

          -  a diary entry from when love was still a religion and not a lesson


here is what they don’t tell you:

1. your mother will be your first heartbreak

2. your friend breakup will hurt
          more than the one with that guy in chemistry class
          ever did

3. never being asked out to homecoming takes a toll
          (or to prom, or to dance, or to a date)
          it will render love invisible
          before you even get to see it

4. how much it aches
          when you visit your grandmother’s grave
          or when you outgrow the anklet she gave you

5. love songs are not shallow (they’re honest)
          what’s so shallow about
          wanting to be loved the way you never have been
          or being tired of being the one doing the loving
          or loving blindly, and surely, and certainly

6. love is a choice just as much as it is an emotion
          you don’t need to go out searching for love
          when you’ve been through it, a part of of it,
          in it, outside of it,
          when you’ve been love
          all along

          -  what they don’t tell you


it’s love like i’ll never stop loving you
not in like a, “when i see you we’ll get back together” sort of way,
but like a “i hope you’re well. i hope you’re okay. i hope you flourish.”

it’s love like your first heartbreak and your first heart mend
because even when you pull out stitches when a wound is healed
it still hurts, doesn’t it?

it’s love like this song still reminds me of you
like i still have the book you gave me

once you’ve healed, you’ll find it doesn’t sting
but it might ache

but i’m okay with a little ache
it means i sang a song for someone once
it means that place by the lake was someone’s secret spot
(it was ours)

it means i have a scar at the stitch
stories to tell

it’s love like i won’t hold you
but i’ll hold your memory

it’s love like you’ve left
but you’re never gone

          -  scars at the stitch


i’m tired of permanence. of being told that the futility of infinity undermines the courage of choosing to love. because we still love, don’t we? we love even though it burns, even though it scars, even though it ends. we love even though we lose. and that’s a brave choice to make. everything about love is so tragically beautiful and i’m tired of living as if permanence can even compare.

          -  realization