cloud strife @bondforged - Tumblr Blog

“I pity you. You just don’t get it at all… there’s not a thing I don’t cherish!”

#TIFA AND CLOUD╱ I LOVE YOU MORE THAN I HAVE EVER FOUND A WAY TO SAY TO YOU.

Love is a part of a puzzle, he thinks. Of life and the memories that came, or eventually come, with it. There’s a process to fitting together the curves and corners of pieces until you finish to have a clear picture. Sometimes the pieces fit, and other times they seem like they might, but the pattern is just not quite right...

-- like it belongs somewhere else, so it needs to be set aside until a later time. There’s nothing wrong with revisiting that little puzzle piece, because you know you’ll eventually find a place for it. And there’s nothing wrong with leaving one section of the puzzle to work on another.

Because the thing with puzzles is -- no matter what, no matter how long, no matter how many tries, each piece is connected to something grander.

And when it is -- the end result is beautiful. It all finally fits. It’s peaceful. The pieces were all scattered and didn’t make too much sense individually... but together, bit by bit....

He’s still piecing together this puzzle inside his own mind, but when he looks at her - when she smiles at him - when her heavenly lights illuminate the path and it's so bright he can see in the darkness --- the picture seems to get just a little bit clearer.

❛ ... something much more, ❜ he repeats after her, softly, like he’s committing it to memory. It’s another piece he feels has been connected.

❛ when I think of what it looks like -- ❜

love looks a lot like you.

❛ -- when I look at love, ❜

His head lifts to look at her.

❛ I feel like everything will be okay again. ❜ @meteofists

#meteofists

meteofists-deactivated20200421

“ what does love look like? ”

THE SUN & HER FLOWERS / *accepting .

❝ … Love ? ❞ Soft queries from a gentle tongue. Carmine eyes flit to his before they chance a downward tilt; hands lacing behind her back . Eventually her head raises; chancing upon another star in the sky amidst the darkening clouds of twilight. Can such a word be so cheaply defined?

Or is it in the way you support a wearied shoulder? How you stand before the downtrodden? How you lift up a heart as broken as the girl who carries it, the girl unsaid, the girl unheard? The girl who dares not speak the profound depths of her heavenly soul?

Is it the way you can’t tell what’s false or true anymore in your memories, some clear as a clarion call? In the way you keep watchful eyes over broken boys from a broken eye?

Or the way you tend to the before and aftermath with hands that have only ever rent apart the ground and split knuckles red, but in the handling care of others they are healing hands? Hands which guide when you yourself are so very lost ?

What do you say to the broken boys with bruises for eyes, the boy fallen from your domain? Who walks the earth in uncertain, distorted feet and stumbles upon your bar with questions and noncommittal answers?

What do you say to the boy who seemed fresh and full of promise only to have the bruises grow, the wounds fester, the heart wither? What is love if not to restore, to hurt, to heal, to grow? What is love if not for knowing? What is love if not for being beyond the word of ‘love’ itself? What is love if not gathering the myriad pieces of the people around you and trying to apply your own blood as the glue?

How do you define love as words so cheaply when your very body breaks and cracks from it? A stalwart glance to the sky you claim dominion; girl of heaven, girl of stars, girl of sins and virtues. Girl so desperately and so ardently crafted from love infinite in which to give?

How can you hold him and all you cherish in your hands and call it simply love? When your heart is fit to break apart even further down the line from the weight of how you feel? How do you when you yourself are silently cracking from your own heart in silence?

❝ I don’t think….something like that can be so easily put into words, Cloud. Because, somehow I think, …it’s deeper than words. It’s something much more.❞ Roseate mouth purses; pinching together as you try to think of the girl lost in her own sky, falling and flying, reaching and pulling away, heart without its key.

Love is only a title page for the feeling of mending and being ripped apart. Love is the title page for becoming, the title page of being, the title page of losing, of winning, of infinity - and you have no idea how to even fathom half of what it means even when it bleeds in your body.

❝But, ❞ Tifa demurs; quiet and flitting her eyes in an encouraging light: ❝ I think it’s something we all gotta figure out eventually. So…if you don’t know now, it’s okay. One day, you will. ❞ Because love may be the beginning and ending of everything, and maybe, and it sings far more prettily than the cold, brittle reality of darkness trying to smother it whole. Love, a word cheaply given, love, a word to counteract brittle things. A word for the past, a word for someday, for him, and already, in so many different ways, in so many myriad meanings - for you.

#this is beautiful #tbt.