It’s not a question of “WHEN.”
When will the pain end?
When will I move on?
When can I stop my heart from missing and loving someone?
When will I be happy again?
And the list goes on for all your “WHEN?”
The broken pieces of us become a story of their own.
Maybe when our heart is torn into pieces, the becoming of who we are and what we can become—begins.
My kind of love is the kind that STAYS.
When it rushes, and then slows down, and goes downhill—it stays.
I never experience a love that is so intense and passionate as yours.
You came into my life like a hurricane, smashing me in a different direction.
It’s like a rush of water that my only escape from drowning is for me to hold your hand.
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