I can really see it in your face
Love - that word is exchanged between us a lot.
We both truly mean it. Not in the same ways, but it is sincere from both of us. She loves me in a way that is genuine and true. The word love, when she uses it to me, means she cares deeply about me in a way that is ever replicated by other sensations, desires and meanings.
I love her differently. I love her in a way different from sensations that make us experience pleasure. A way different from the emotions that cause our hearts to take notice. Different from comfort, safety, lustful desire or playful infatuation. I love her in a way different from the crush a schoolgirl gets or the way a fat person lavishes on gorging alone.
I love her in the way that is faith itself. The sureity of a love that could never be felt for another, under any other circumstances, in any other way or time. I love her like the fragile feeling that it is, so full of delicate complacency and contentment and the fear that it could all shatter into nothing in a single instant. I love her in a way that I never have before, never will and never want to ever again. I love her in a way that is finality, completeness.
She will never feel the same way again that she once did, or thought she did. I don't think she ever really truly felt like I do, even though her passion was so much more alive and strong outwardly than mine ever were. She made it seem like the way she felt could never possibly fade away, created the illusion that no matter how flawed I was she accepted me for who I was. I could never fall too far that she would walk away. This was the finality, the realization that I didn't have to worry about finding the perfect fit and my counterpart for the rest of my life. I had done what so many others had failed, I had won the race. My prize was the love and respect and wholeness that our hearts sought, and found, together forever. The knowledge every single day when I woke up that another human being, somehow, accepted me for who I was no matter how ridiculous or undeserving I felt that acceptance was.
I love you. Three words, so easy to say or write or send as a text message. So rich in potential meaning and possible context. As invigorating as they can be crushing, those three short words. They can say to someone that they mean the world, or nothing, or something in between, like emotional purgatory that tortures the heart more than any cold certainty ever could.
I love you. I never knew the meaning of these words until they stabbed my heart like a crooked tattoed dagger from a shaky, but improving, amatuer's portfolio. The gravity and responsibility of these words, the impact they can have on one and the impartiality and unfamiliarity to another. Different shades, different values. Solve the equation for X. X equals whatever you think it should.
I love you. I really mean it, do you know that? Do you understand that I would truly do anything for you, change anything about myself that you asked, become whatever you want me to become. I would twist my psyche just for your satisfaction, grow into whatever flavor or color you desired. I would wear whatever dumb costume or facade that made you happy. It would make me happy. Nothing would make me happier.
I love you. As much as I loved you when I first truly realized. When it was too late. I still love you. I can't help myself, I can't stop. I don't want to.
I love you. I hope I never hear those words from you again. I couldn't bear to never hear you say those words to me again.
I love you.
We both truly mean it. Not in the same ways, but it is sincere from both of us. She loves me in a way that is genuine and true. The word love, when she uses it to me, means she cares deeply about me in a way that is ever replicated by other sensations, desires and meanings.
I love her differently. I love her in a way different from sensations that make us experience pleasure. A way different from the emotions that cause our hearts to take notice. Different from comfort, safety, lustful desire or playful infatuation. I love her in a way different from the crush a schoolgirl gets or the way a fat person lavishes on gorging alone.
I love her in the way that is faith itself. The sureity of a love that could never be felt for another, under any other circumstances, in any other way or time. I love her like the fragile feeling that it is, so full of delicate complacency and contentment and the fear that it could all shatter into nothing in a single instant. I love her in a way that I never have before, never will and never want to ever again. I love her in a way that is finality, completeness.
She will never feel the same way again that she once did, or thought she did. I don't think she ever really truly felt like I do, even though her passion was so much more alive and strong outwardly than mine ever were. She made it seem like the way she felt could never possibly fade away, created the illusion that no matter how flawed I was she accepted me for who I was. I could never fall too far that she would walk away. This was the finality, the realization that I didn't have to worry about finding the perfect fit and my counterpart for the rest of my life. I had done what so many others had failed, I had won the race. My prize was the love and respect and wholeness that our hearts sought, and found, together forever. The knowledge every single day when I woke up that another human being, somehow, accepted me for who I was no matter how ridiculous or undeserving I felt that acceptance was.
I love you. Three words, so easy to say or write or send as a text message. So rich in potential meaning and possible context. As invigorating as they can be crushing, those three short words. They can say to someone that they mean the world, or nothing, or something in between, like emotional purgatory that tortures the heart more than any cold certainty ever could.
I love you. I never knew the meaning of these words until they stabbed my heart like a crooked tattoed dagger from a shaky, but improving, amatuer's portfolio. The gravity and responsibility of these words, the impact they can have on one and the impartiality and unfamiliarity to another. Different shades, different values. Solve the equation for X. X equals whatever you think it should.
I love you. I really mean it, do you know that? Do you understand that I would truly do anything for you, change anything about myself that you asked, become whatever you want me to become. I would twist my psyche just for your satisfaction, grow into whatever flavor or color you desired. I would wear whatever dumb costume or facade that made you happy. It would make me happy. Nothing would make me happier.
I love you. As much as I loved you when I first truly realized. When it was too late. I still love you. I can't help myself, I can't stop. I don't want to.
I love you. I hope I never hear those words from you again. I couldn't bear to never hear you say those words to me again.
I love you.