Not simple love, not complex love.
Love in its purest form, coupled with passion.
I never knew passion was a separate entity from love.
I want him.
I crave him, stronger than any drug or cup of coffee.
There’s a hunger in my heart, in the pit of my belly.
And I wonder if he feels this too, or if I just love him too much.
I hope it’s the former.
There have been moments
When we clung to each other
Like the only two survivors
In the entire world.
Survivors of what?
The throes of teenage heartache, heartbreak, depression and love?
Broken homes, changing views, hot-as-hell opinions?
Maybe we’re just survivors of each other,
For each other.
Fairytale love.
That’s what I call it.
Not real fairytale love,
Where The Prince and The Princess meet at a ball,
Fall madly in love,
And live Happily Ever After.
No, this is the Real Fairytale,
In which the prince and princess meet
In the dark basement of a church,
Shyly admit their feelings on the Internet,
And begin dating two weeks after the princess
Was dumped by a minor duke.
No comments:
Post a Comment