Love Mass by Alexander Miller
Lovesick feeling when I listen to some songs. I think about the few…maybe one woman I have ever loved. Then I wonder what love is. Then I think about whether I loved her truly or not, without fear and reticence. Then I think I did not because I held back as I always do, and that’s not brave. Some songs have that power, that mysticism that make me believe in God and perhaps faith makes my skin shake, ghostly and ghastly about how it all makes me feel. No one can really save you.
–is that right?
I have no clue about saving people. My trend has been women in need of saving: feeling incomplete and looking for me to shower compliments, furnish them with an unearned and distinguished love. Why me? Love’s Deity presses into my forehead, and I can’t remember many women that have made me feel cerebral before my ego trashes them, and throws them in the waste basket of women I’ve written off. I still think of her. I cannot settle. I have loved her, that loves not me.