#Day261: Barren Meadows of Lost Loves

                            Her voice was like a whisper, as she brushed down her hair..
                    And I glanced at her bare shoulder, where lay a butterfly so rare..
                                         For no audacious wanderer had ever found,
                                               A love so obvious, so profound..
                                          And as obvious as my heartbeats aloud,
                                  She turns and smiles at me, all angelic for but a halo,
                                But as the sound of her whispers flew away with the wind..
                                          I stood watching where she once sat,
                                                 Where heaven hath sinned.

There is undoubtedly a charismatic beauty in the idea of love.
But today, right here and right now, I am about to confess to you, my idea of love.
I breathe and thrive on one secret I have: I’m in love with the idea of love and yet I’m not in love.
Much too complex? Let me simplify it. I am, at heart, a hardcore romantic. I love the idea of the odd phone call, the hand written letter, the stranger’s shy smile and the gateway a partner brings. The idea of laughs and giggles, early winter morning cuddles, late night escapes and murmured conversations. Its all a very garish and glorious idea. The peck on the cheek, the pick me up hugs, the perfectly curved hands held together. Maestros of emotion. But all this is the bubble love brings with it.
In the real world, there’s no phoniness or unspoken concrete words. Its all out there, in black and white, waiting to ruin, the idea of love. Waiting to be embraced. Waiting to belong.
I am not in love with anyone. I’m in love with the very creative idea of things. And frankly, thats the worst way of being in love.
To be brash, love is no magic. Its just a certain level of attraction one feels for who-so-ever we assume we’d best survive with. This is however, my interpretation. I assure you, its not a heart broken girl taking out her vengeance. Nay, I am not venting. I am simply, confessing.
My blog is my holy church and you my dear, are my priest.
So love is all this and that but love is also predictable sentiment. The scary part is, if you fall in love with someone, you’d either end up dying together or apart. Neither is exactly a very polished ending. Together is better than apart, something is better nothing after all.


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