Posted on Posted in Wonder

If its true, you’ll find each other again

Like two people with perfect hair, we’ll meet each other again. Perhaps we’ll find each other in the same subway, or merely on tinder. Our love will rekindle and all the years, the anguish, will be worth it.

At least, that’s what they tell me.

Perhaps not all love is meant to last. Maybe love is as fleeting as a rainbow in the mist, but that doesn’t make it any less beautiful. Perhaps, it’s the rarity that makes us stare in awe, and remember it fondly. Maybe, love isn’t about all the time spent in each others’ arms. It’s about how those times are etched in our minds. Love is about our souls being carved to the rhythm of their heartbeat, which is just a little bit uneven when you’re together. It’s the memories that could have come straight from a timeless movie. It’s the faintest smile you adorn when you’re cleaning up the attic and you find their shirt.

Love survives. It’s remembering those bright eyes, even after their face is blurry, and their voice muffled. The warmth of their touch, still as soothing in your memory.

You see, love isn’t in presence. It’s about how your heart was – is – so overwhelmed by them, how them reading a grocery list compares to songs of an angel. It’s about all the time spent together, no matter how little and rough. Love is not, and never will be, about a marriage and children. Love is when your tired heart still flutters when you think of them, hoping that somewhere, they feel the same.

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