Marina sighs. "Love's a tidal wave," she says. "Because it sweeps you off your feet?" I ask. "No. Because it sucks you under and you drown.
You ever love somebody so much You can barely breathe When you’re with them
...his love was too much for him, he felt paralyzed, he wanted to sleep inside her lungs and breathe her blood and be smothered.
Anyone who tries to imprison love will cut off the spring that feeds it, and the trapped water will grow stagnant and rank.
It's a strange feeling, being so utterly surrounded by her. Her life scent is on everything. She's on me and under me and next to me. It's as if the entire room is made out of her.
I didn't know someone could love me like this," she said. "Could love me and love me and love me without...needing space." Lincoln wasn't asleep. He rolled on top of her. "There's no air in space," he said.
The love to which ego is attached is a form of jealousy - this is why nobody is as jealous as lovers are. The love which is attached to the ego is a conspiracy and a trick to possess the other. It is a conspiracy - that is why nobody suffocates so many people as those who talk of love. This situation is created because of the 'love' which comes from the ego - there can never be any relation between love and the ego.
Drowning in the sea of love Where everyone would love to drown.
So do boys and men announce their intentions. They cover you like a sarcophagus lid. And call it love.
I was a heavy heart to carry My beloved was weighed down My arms around his neck My fingers laced to crown. I was a heavy heart to carry My feet dragged across ground And he took me to the river Where he slowly let me drown My love has concrete feet My love's an iron ball Wrapped around your ankles Over the waterfall
She wanted to lose herself in him. To tie his arms around her like a tourniquet. If she showed him how much she needed him, he'd run away.
It was the kind of love that, sooner or later, cornered you into a choice: either you tore free or you stayed and withstood its rigor even as it squeezed you into something smaller than yourself.
Unless carefree, mother love was a killer.
Always that tyrannical love reaches out. Soft words shrivel me like quicklime. She will not allow me to be cold, hungry. She will insist that I take her own coat, her own food.
