I once thought I knew what love was. How the rich stain of passion soaked through to my very core. How hard it was just to bear affection, and how worthwhile the pain of regret could be. I remember how easily it was to forgive the heaviest of blows. Always in the name of love. There was no end because there was no beginning. It took years of tolling on my spirit for me to begin to see it all clearly. I was blinded by a veil of illusion, and of obsession. Till death do us part; no it was never love at all.

Time has a way of teaching us the lessons we never thought we would learn. The lessons of which we never understood to begin with. I can tell you that I’ve loved, beyond my wildest desires. I can tell you I’ve loved to a point of blood, and bruised regret. So much so, that I fear permanancy where I question myself. Such steep emotions come with high priced concern.

Now for the first time I am falling. Into the only arms that have never threatened me. For the first time I am learning. What it means to be in love. No fear. No fault. Just an incredible warmth that grows. And it just keeps on growing.

Never asking for anything more than my smile.