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Love Begins

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@jmsofresh
“I can’t say I don’t miss you.”
— S.C.C
neocortexsupernova:
“Suddenly she realized that what she was regretting was not the lost past but the lost future, not what had not been but what would never be.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, from “A Nice Quiet Place,” The Saturday Evening Post (31 May 1930)
Reconcile?
I’ve been into astrology lately, every time I see a reading or something that involves my sign. It keeps saying there is someone who wants to reconcile with me. It says I’m gonna have a serious h2h talk with someone too. Girl, if this is you. I’m waiting. I want this too. I miss you.
Am I giving you mixed signals?
I mean If I am, man, I’m sorry.
I think love is about being your darkest, most destructive self. To be loved, not in spite of this but because of it.
If this is my heartache, then let it be mine to endure. Permit me to feel it in its entirety. Don’t tell me how much of you I am allowed to love.
I loved you once and now I must spend my whole life explaining why.
“The sad thing is,” she said, “the moment you start to miss someone, it means they’re already gone.”
I don’t want you to love me because I’m good for you, because I say and do all the right things. Because I am everything you have been looking for.
I want to be the one that you didn’t see coming. The one who gets under your skin. Who makes you unsteady. Who makes you question everything you have ever believed about love. Who makes you feel reckless and out of control. The one you are infuriatingly and inexplicably drawn to.
I don’t want to be the one who tucks you into bed—I want to be the reason why you can’t sleep at night.
“Some people don’t know what they have until it’s gone.”
“But what about the ones who do know? The ones who never took a damn thing for granted? Who tried their hardest to hold on, yet could only look on helplessly while they lost the thing they loved the most.”
“Isn’t it so much worse for them?”
I talk to you all the time, even if you can’t hear me. I tell you constantly, over and over, how much I miss you and that for me, nothing has changed. I think about the days when we could say anything to each other. My heart is like a time capsule—it keeps safe the memory of you. I know it’s harder with you gone than if you had never been here at all—but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
Do you think there is the possibility of you and I? In this lifetime, is that too much to hope for? There is something so delicate about this time, so fragile. And if nothing ever comes of it, at least I have known this feeling, this wonderful sense of optimism. It is something I can always keep close to me—to draw from in my darkest hour like a ray of unspent sunshine. No matter what happens next, I will always be glad to know there is someone like you in the world.
stay soft. it looks beautiful on you
if i write
what you may feel
but can not say.
it does not
make
me a poet.
it makes me a bridge.
and
i am humbled
and
i am grateful
to assist your heart in speaking.
–– grateful
i lied.
i told you i was not afraid to love you. then i walked away.
and
loved you.
–– i have spent my whole life alone. loving you | when we choose fear