Love is so wierd.
Its constant. Its calm. Its natural.
Its not intense.
Its not a safety blanket, but the mattress itself.
It doesnt protect you and it's not supposed to.
It makes you love yourself almost as much as it loves you.
It sees your flaws and nourishes them until instead of thorns at your sides, you'll see feathers.
And it sure does make you damn poetic apparently.
YOU ARE READING
A Book I'll Never Write
RandomHere is the life lessons and experiences I've learned during the years. My own personal guide to life. Hope it'll help you with yours.
