"Shower him with love," the other woman says
"It's not my love he wants." She replies.
It is painful and honest,
Broken and true all at the same time. That's the problem sometimes I suppose-
Loving someone doesn't necessarily mean being what they want/need.
And the knowing, it doesn't make it any less painful. Just like it doesn't mean you'll stop loving that person altogether.
Feelings have always been tricksy, tricksy things.
I'm glad we fixed us.
I like that we try, and that we want to.
It's nice being able to talk the way we do-
You have no idea.
To be able to be open and honest and broken. Not because we need fixing, but because there's something real and raw about it. I like being able to dissect and think with you, identify issues and talk.
And then I like wrapping it up, and putting it away.
This place we've found ourselves in, it's nice.
I am comfortable and happy. Not in a roll-about-with-excitement way, but in a deep-down-this-is-impossibly-real way.
Like, if there was an exact opposite for the phrase Happiness is Fleeting,
Then this would be it.
I'm in love with you.
The thought of it has always been rather frightening (not being in love with you, just being in love), and there are times where I'm not entirely sure what to do with how I feel.
But somehow, it seems less frightening with you than it is, uhm. Nice.
I can't seem to find another word, and that's the best I can come up with-
That it's nice.
A lot of things are, with you, just so you know.
And all this, that we have and like and is nice,
It feels like it'd be enough for red brick walls, wooden floors, french windows.
Like it'd fit right in with picnics on sunny days and hot cups of tea, blankets and books on rainy days.
Feels like it could just be you & me, while we wait for everything else to fall into place.