A friend of mine recently said “to love is be vulnerable”. I really liked that but to be honest with myself, I believe true love is safe. Someone who truly loves you will not play upon your insecurities; they will never cast you in doubt, they will never make you guess where their intent lies.
Sure, things might become tough, things might become hard. However, if they truly love you than they will never leave you guessing. They will recognize what you have to offer and fear to lose it. Not because they are afraid to be alone or because they need to suffice loneliness, but because they realize what your essence brings to their life.
True love conquers all battles that try to divide it. Whether it is physical or emotional, people who truly love each other face these things together. No matter the cost.
Do you agree or disagree? Why?
I pushed you away subconsciously. Amplified everything that could ever get you in a frenzy, this is me. Everything, why? I don’t know. I guess I want to show you the worst of me. To see if you could love me on my bad days. To see if you could really appreciate my all. It’s probably not a good strategy. It probably wouldn’t ever work but to be loved is to be vulnerable.
I felt the change in you.. I couldn’t take it. The perspective got a little bleak and so I became a little needy. I hated that. I really don’t like to need anyone. But I wanted you. I wanted you forever in a moment. Maybe for eternity. I guess that’s the life of a heart broken romantic.
The perspective of change around your face didn’t match the words that grace your lips.
My past lover told me, to think differently and keep marching forward. To leave all the chaos behind me. He told me that I needed to love differently.
“You forgive to easily. Give to much. Exhaust everything until you have had enough. That they only realize they love you when you’re gone. You don’t need anyone. Don’t let your heart grow cold and bitter. Be the smile on a strangers face like always. Project who you truly are.
Crinthia: what a beautifully suited name. Your existence is poetry; your movement is a play, your words like spoken lyrics.
You’re my Queen, I have to protect you.
He read my poetry. I told him not to read my writings and he confessed that he did. He asked me why I didn’t want him to read it. I replied, I can’t provide either of our hearts alibis and I want to write emotional truths.