The saddest thing in life is being madly in love with someone who no longer exists.
And it’s true. Only their breath and their lips will make your flowers grow. You hope for rain and only get sun. Drying you out. Sucking the life, and beauty out of every cell. Until there is nothing left.
Yet you grow. You love. You kiss and hug and dream of everything love is.
But you feel as if it will never come. As if no one will ever be willing to water you.
And as the garden grows and withers. I realize that if this is love, I don’t want it. But it’s real. And it hurts and it fucking burns a hole In your heart that can never be mended. But that’s the beauty in it, right?
Is burying yourself so deep In such a dangerous coffin. Yet still having your flowers bloom each season, and bringing color, light, beauty, love and brightness to those amongst you.
Love isn’t meant to be fulfilling. It’s meant to drain you in the most beautiful way. To take your breathe and suffocate you in their grace. To look them in the eye while they’re fucking the shit out of you and be able to see them. To see them.
And to know that all along, no matter the day, that you were your own water. And they were simply the weeds disguised as flowers all along.
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
snowghoul
jacobvanloon
