this is not a test, or a poem

I'm writing again because I'm sitting here, just thinking. Just thinking and thinking and thinking.  

I have my itunes on.

The song that came on when I was deepest in thought, but not so deep I didn't notice, was "Fool for Love." 

I can't help asking, "Is that me?"

Am I a fool for love?

Am I just one of those fucking sap poets?

Is that me?

Forever digging and digging waiting to strike gold.

Fucking Pyrite!

(Earth science paid off)

Fucking fools gold!

What if I'm mining for the wrong thing.

What if love isn't gold.

Could love be that...Yellow?

What if it's diamonds I'm supposed to be mining.

Hard and unbreakable?

No.

Copper?

Bright and shiny only to be tarnished?

No.

Coal?

Crumbly and black but useful?

No.

Should I be walking the beaches digging into clams?

Cracking open clams.

Clam after clam.

Trying to find one pearl.

Is that what finding love is like?

Clamming?

Fuck. 

I am a "Fool for Love."

I am some fucking sap poet.

How did I ever let it get this far?

How did I get sucked into love.

The promise of it all.

fuck.