What's love? I thought I knew but clearly I have no clue. It used to be that being in love was a mixture of corny cliques. You never understand that fully until you actually experience the feeling. It's not the big grand gestures, or the unrealistic promises. It's the little things. A long lingering touch, the locking of eyes in a captivating look, the smiles at thoughts, the way your heart sings and your soul soars. Memories collected. Discovering someone and the marvellous realisation that there would always be more to discover. The spark, the butterflies. You feel it all.
Thought I had that with you, and almost had that with you and I definitely had that with you.
There's pain too - the pieces of your heart trampled on by insensitive feet, body curled up shaking, tears burning a trail down your cheeks as you think the person who brought you to this hell is the only who can take away the pain. When words cut through flesh like razors, and you're left bleeding, torn... What was my question again? Fuck it! Or is it fuck you!? And you. And you... No, I'll make a toast instead - here's to the next one, perhaps you'll help me answer my question.
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There’s so much to look forward to, each day is a gift, and I’m grateful for the blessings, both big and small. I’m still looking for answers, still searching for my place in this world, still reaching for the stars; always dreaming...
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