The little things

Ache

Love is painful. A lesson I've always been taught, whatever form it comes in.

But sometimes the pain is worth it.

I'll suffer the aching arms, from carrying them to bed.

I'll endure the grazed knees, from running and sliding with them.

I'll live with the aching ribs, if it takes her mind of things.

I'm okay with burning lungs if it means he is distracted.

I'm fine with bruising fingers, if it takes away his fear.

Headaches don't matter, if it means she slept last night.

Numb legs don't bother me, if it means he's not alone.

I'll ignore my bruising feet, if it means he got to dance.

I'll disregard my scratched up arms, if it means they got a laugh.

I'll pretend the stinging doesn't exist, if it means I get him home.

The spikes in my legs are irrelevant, if it means they had an adventure.

My aching heart is pushed aside, so that they can be happy together.

14.2.16