i've been searching for the pinnacle of love all along. what is that one specific moment when you felt love at its fullest? you try to define it, and somehow it feels that there could be something more; more compelling and savage because the one that knocks your door right now, just stands on the doorway. you dishevel all the moments from the library of your brain, searching for tabs that'll help you define — only to realise that after all this while, your sentiment has changed, it's not the same anymore. the love you once felt, wasn't love afterall. you rush down the memory lane, passing through each door — hunting something that has already escaped but you can't give up, can you? it's your only meal, the only one that'll suffice.
were you more in love yesterday than you are today or has it been the opposite for you? was it love anyways or just an anoint that gave relief to your stained ache? every time that i've convinced myself that i feel love, it has only changed the next moment because love loves to fidget. one moment it's engraved on my collar and the next, it holds a knife to my skin. i've been searching for the pinnacle of love — when love is a tree that i sow and not the thorns i meet along the way.
