Your love, your love is strange, it’s weird it makes me feel.
I could go ahead and compare your love to floods, tsunamis and even earthquakes, because it truly is groundbreaking, I write pages and I could fill anything from small notepads to heavy journals about your love and how it makes me feel, like every other author and writer and poet who wrote about love, I could repeat the same things over and over and call it mine, but the truth is every single detail, all the knowledge I have is built on fantasy, what I saw in a movie, what I read in a book, I’ve never been in love. I don’t even believe in it.
I don’t understand how I don’t deny feelings of envy, pain, sorrow or even happiness, then why love in particular? It’s an emotion just like the others after all, isn’t it?
Or am I missing something, because I can’t seem to see oceans in blue eyes, and heaven in brown ones, they’re just eyes to me.
I can’t seem to see angels or anything close to angelic in humans, they’re just humans, bones, blood and skin that can easily cut open with its contents flowing out and draining our bodies of what little we have.
I can’t seem to see the broken, they all wear the same smiles, and I don’t see it when they cry, because broken people don’t cry, they’re far beyond that, they hold it inside,and even if they do they cry into their pillows at night and in the morning they apply a little make up, staple on that smile staring into the mirror, I can’t seem to see the broken because they’re too good at hiding it.-H