Some days

i love too much

even the long days at work

or washing a pile of dishes

or hanging laundry

or a steaming hot shower

even my boring feet

and my unruly hair

my messy house

my unorganised desk

some days

i love too much

when my friends

get in touch with me

and those who visit me

maybe message me

a 1000000 times a day

serve them tea

laugh with them

on screen

face to face

even past midnight

stealing, no wait

demanding my attention

or both

challenging me

some days

i love too much

even

my son’s erratic sleep

when he licks my face

his toys under the fridge

drawing over the walls

crying for something

menial

important to him

some days

i love too much

the world

and the people

i meet

listening to their breathing

their faces

all the same

interconnected

fusing with mine

and theirs

the eyes

drawing me in

to their lives

telling me to keep

listening

accepting

join in

but

i have to remember

i must remember

write it in my diary

pin it to the wall

or my hand

or my feet

that

some days

are not

all the days

not everyday

not most days

because

other days

some days

i am tired

of loving too much

incapable even

infact

some days

i hate

loving too much