It's a funny thing to love someone
It's a funny thing to love someone  stories
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ameliagrace
ameliagraceSometimes I write things and share them
Autoplay OFF  •  8 months ago
It’s a funny thing to love someone. An obsession that opens you up like a flower in the spring; blooming in sweet colour underneath the golden sun,

It's a funny thing to love someone

It’s a funny thing to love someone.

It's an obsession that opens you up like a flower in the spring; blooming in sweet colour underneath the golden sun.

We are given life by a warm breeze that drifts between each leaf; swaying and swinging in the sickly air.

And yet, in every great love story there must be a tragedy, a bitterness, a force that drives the delicate blossom from the safety of the tree.

Petal by petal the golden sun slowly morphs to a cool rain and begins to lace the flowers peachy skin.

Corrupt, and the sickly sweet summer air drifts away just as the love between those two colliding souls fades into the early darkness that winter introduces.

We spent the summer tangled in a warm haze.

Laughing and smiling through the sun kissed days, we wondered around and around until there was nowhere left to wonder or explore,

only our love that lingered between our bodies and our eyes meeting, creeping into places we had never let it into before. It was just like the films.

It was only us and nothing else neither mattered or even existed when we together-at least, not for me.

Tonight is one of those nights that’s filled with salty tears and wet sleeves. The world feels scratchy and sore through my eyes and nothing seems quite like it fits.

Music and books are a great way to escape the moment, running from those leaky eyes and crumbling insides but they don’t seem right tonight.

Going to sleep or for a walk? Making a mess or cleaning it up- nothing feels like the right thing to do.

My brain or my body or God know’s what is detached from this world, as drifts between mindless spaces whilst my head feels heavy and the world seems soft.

Whether to let go.

Or carry on.

Red flag after red flag, the answer seems so black and white in a world between us that exists only in gold or grey.

But it’s a funny thing to love someone.

An obsession that opens you up.

An obsession that clings onto the hope that he sill loves you.

An obsession that can’t let go of those sun kissed days or those memories made tangled in a warm haze because maybe, just maybe, deep down he still loves you.

Or maybe you’re a fool for loving so hard when he couldn’t love at all.

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