“You see,” she said “your first love isn’t the first person you give your heart to, it’s the first one who breaks it.” — Lang Leav
Do you ever know what to really expect from love? First love, last love, if you expect anything at all — are you already screwed?
Can love ever be simplified into having zero expectations, I want to know. I want to just appreciate it whenever and however it shows up in the moment, but can I really do that? Appreciate a plot twist or two, or three. Foolish decisions and indecision, that creep up on you in the middle of any day or night to fuck with you — just a little more.
You looked at me that day like you had seen a ghost, maybe you still expected me to be on the floor where you left me — when I needed you the most.
If you come across an old love, at first those love sick tears spied glistening in the eyes of your hearts breaker — might make you smile. Now that you have reclaimed your heart, put it back together and dusted off your shoulders. Some messed up version of satisfaction, is yours for the taking at long last. So much water under the bridge, and the bridge long since burned down.
Plot twist: Then, the not quite accurate nostalgic images of your best and worst times — flood back to interrupt your satisfaction, which complicate your emotions by blurring the lines between their every intersection.
Love may well be simple in its stripped down essence, desire plus action.
We however, seem ever so complex layer under layer — determined to complicate it all.
Now you find yourself staring back into those glistening eyes, suddenly aware that you feel entirely too much — still.
This feels like some kind of heartbreak — this time by your own hands, when all you want to do is K. I. S. S.