love and hurt always come as the two sides of the same coin. i know this today because at this moment the hurt demands to be felt and all i feel is love, so much love; just too late. love has always been flowing through my being, i'm aware of the fact. playfully sprinting and teasing, something watery and fluent; loose enough to escape from my grasp. the anticipation, the stolen glances, the prospect of something that we could've been has always been oscillating before our orbs but today it stands glued to this spot, still and immovable — almost as if it's lifeless. i'm here bearing the corpse of what could've been in my hands and you're there ━ sublime and oblivious, too engrossed to even understand.
this love that i now feel is messy, blotchy, and disordered ━ a clot whose fibers have interwoven themselves so much it's almost suffocating. the hurt has taken matters into its own whim. the chasm of want is almost exploding under my chest but even so, i don't want to let go because this agony is the closest i'll ever get to choose, to love; to you. i cling to the hurt because it's the closest i'll ever get to loving you. love and hurt will never not be inclusive.
