I want to know.
I want to know what it means.
This feeling, this word, this intangible beauty they call love.
I don't understand it.
I've seen love, in the fairy tales of old of new, I've seen love, in the eyes of strangers on the street, I've seen love, in the words of fictional worlds I treasure so much.
I've seen love, but what is it like to be loved?
Or to love and to be loved in return?
I wish I knew.
I wish I found the answers in your eyes that would never meet mine, I wish I found the answers in your words never meant for me, I wish I found the answers in your smiles which I wanted to keep to myself and myself only.
I've always wanted to know what it felt like, to love someone, this feeling that was supposed to make me feel on top of the world. And now maybe I know, I know what it means to want to be with someone longer, I know what it means to want to more about someone else, but is this love?
Is this feeling that makes me want to laugh and scream at the same time love? It hurts, my heart hurts so, my chest hurts so, I can't breathe, but at the same time, it feels like liberation, relief, and I don't know whether to hate or welcome this feeling.
Now that I've loved, I know it is a bitter thing, a defect of the heart, and the only cure is to be loved in return, to make the bitter sweet, to turn a defect into a blessing, but how often are people loved in return?
It hurts, loving you hurts, and maybe, I don't want to love you anymore.
Because it's so hard to breathe when you're around and everything inside me is running at a hundred kilometers per hour, you make me feel more than anyone else but you don't even know.
And it kind of hurts.
I'm afraid of your touch, because I want it so much but you don't even seem to think twice, that it means my touch means nothing to you, but yours is something I want to hold on to until someday I stop feeling.
It kind of hurts, but I'm glad, because it means you're still here, it means you stayed.
It hurts, but that's fine, because as long as you want to stay by my side, it's more than enough.
YOU ARE READING
The Colour of Sadness
PoetryFinding the beauty and colour in the broken words of this world.