Love.
There are different levels to it and I've reached a few in my past. Love for family, for friends. Even love towards certain men in my life.
But even that love was dull and stagnant. There was warmth and at times contentment, but there was no fire, no spark, no "I can't live without you." It was nice, but that's all it was. Nice.
Isn't love supposed to be exciting and filled with butterflies and gasps of delight? Weren't there supposed to be arguments and anger because love can be just as destructive as replenishing?
There was warmth. A small ember of comfortableness soaking in a vast decay of old logs and wood long burned away. It was welcoming at the time.
I didn't realize that there was so much more to love, another level.
It took years of contentment in independence and singleness to come across someone who ignited fire and sparks in a fireplace that was so long forgotten.
I had almost forgotten what it was like to be wanted, desired, needed...loved.
I guess the saying is true.
It always is the quiet ones, isn't it?
YOU ARE READING
When We Fall Silent
RomanceMaverick was a man of few words. There was no denying that. You were lucky if you even got a whisper out of him. Faye didn't pay much attention to anyone. Rarely a person would capture her interest. But as fate would have it, it's hardly the ones yo...
