• whitewings 8w

    Love is an emotion.
    But loving someone
    is a long and demanding process.
    It is dedication, devotion and consistency.
    A test of your resilience, faith and honesty.
    To delve into the deepest fears, insecurities
    and wounds of someone,
    their childhood, youth...
    the first time they were bullied,
    the times when they felt lonely.
    The things they like
    and the ones they despise,
    how they like to spend their Saturday nights
    and why,
    what broke them,
    how many times
    and how they healed
    without a mentor or guide.
    What is their relationship like
    with their parents, friends and relatives.
    Who is the person
    they trust enough to confide in.
    Whether they prefer tea or coffee...
    their favorite dish, their favorite sports team.
    To know why they tremble
    at the thought of public speaking
    and how they need to be held
    and reassured
    when they're breaking.
    Loving someone
    is opening up the fibers of your being
    and knitting a warm quilt
    by interweaving
    the threads of theirs and your story.
    I don't know how people do it...
    how they fall in love
    for the second, third, fourth and fifth time.
    From where do they gather the energy...
    to do all of it all over again.
    How they bare their bodies
    before strangers
    and bathe in the heat
    that doesn't brew the broth of their dreams
    but simply burns everything that has meaning.
    I don't know how people hug someone
    and don't wither
    at the thought of losing them.
    Don't they feel empty...
    after throwing parts of themselves at so many.
    Don't they feel scattered...
    in the touch, sighs, whispers
    and sweet nothings of so many.
    Is it really love what they feel
    or a compensation of sorts,
    for their inability to commit
    to the truth of their own being.

    ©whitewings

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    Don't they feel empty...
    after throwing parts of themselves at so many.
    Don't they feel scattered...
    in the touch, sighs, whispers
    and sweet nothings of so many.

    ©whitewings