Perhaps closeness hurts me. I have come home for August and I am slowly untangling what made me so bitter about people. Not truly but I know where to start. I realized that I never truly loved someone to their bones. Not my family, not my friends, not my own damn self. Always picking on their weak points when they disappoint. Tragically poetic if I would put it that way.
Then I label it, LOVE, as if I knew what I have been feeling. I don't. I'm learning, though. That is as close as I could get to assure you I will change.
x
I am unsure whether love is a clear blue sky in midsummer afternoon or if it's the peach sun and white clouds of October.
If anything, I doubt so much.
I could have missed this life.
Everyone will still leaves.
I will never know love ever again. (And I think it's alright so)
And even if I never got to the hollowness of your bones, this love is a force of nature: graceful, as mother nature, as could be.
