What if both love was different? What if the love for one, was a burning tenderness, a knowledge that he was the one who taught me that it was possible to love, who had melted partially the ice of my heart. It was gentle and steady, full of admiration and the intimacy of shared likes and dislikes. It was a golden and warmth like a summer afternoon.
And the love for the other was of passion and desperate depth of feeling like never felt before. A love so painful, yet so beautiful at the same time, the one who taught me that love was something that is not easily gained, and the one who had broken down the walls surrounding me. It was harsh and piercing, full of lust and understanding. It was a roaring red of passion, like a candle flame.
I learnt it is possible to love two people--but love them in different ways.
I know that I love you. And that you are the one I always want to be with. Supporting you, cheering you on, crying with you, laughing with you and sharing memories with you. I believe that time will come one day... maybe. I'll keep fighting. Your lips, gentle yet rough. They linger on mine, the feeling doesn't go away.
And you, is it love? Or is it just feelings of like? The afternoons spent together after school, talking about dreams and future plans, with your fingers tracing the skin on my face, playing with strands of my hair and your eyes gazing into mine, suffocating me.
I don't know what to do. I don't know if it is even possible.
Maybe it's some crazy disillusion i'm thinking up in my mind.
Now that, is possible.
Thinking hurts my brain...
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