Opening your heart isn’t just a metaphor.  It is letting someone know you in their rarest form, sometimes that form can be cruel before you reach the light underneath. I don’t believe too many people have smothered all of their light, nonetheless never had it. I remember allowing my self to feel and express whatever i needed to. One of the hardest parts of growing up is realizing that safety and love don’t always square up as they should and some love is undeniably dangerous to you and your soul, wiping out those who left a mark on you in prior times like a trailblazer. Sometimes it stings so bad we don’t even feel the pain when we think we’re in love again. We don’t feel it because we are numb to it, it’s so regular in our hearts and swept into compartments in the corners of our brains reminding us of what could go wrong over and over again, so we listen for a moment and carry on into the lie and fatantasy we swear by until the death. Until we see the coldest day in may where the flowers wilt under the pressure to blossum despite all that challenges them, and they were never meant to blossum. Theres a million ways you can look at it, our brain tricks us into believing we have forever, when we do not. Time is so valuable, and instead of experieincing pain from loving so strongly for those we committ to, we lose it to people don’t know how to us back. The cycle of love may never be reciprocated to those we wish would feel the fire still turning blue within us so our words never have to measure up to the hell we feel dividing us against our own logics. My tongue can’t say, what words only the soul knows to speak. We then feel guilty for not providing enough when the moments ran out. We think of the cuts branded on our arms reminding us of the cycle that brought us together, loss and reunion just another body wearing the same sad faces. It seems depressing, but it’s what we gained. Even if it is the wilted roses thrown in the backyard that once represented a gesture of so much more to life, love and the promise of harmony despite lifes unasked for grand gestures, it still meant something. The stillframe of my brains silence for once in four years only to make me want those seconds back. Again and again for another four years. A family made out of seconds of peace. A house built out of seconds of peace. A future full of holes, built out of a few seconds of peace. We can play pretend and stretch each second over four yesrs, but it’ll never add up to the millions of seconds we will never get back. The idea of finding love that understands much below the surface, that ignites so deeply it only recognizes one another, is hard to find. The strongest love I’ve found in 27 years of life, is the life we brought into this world out of the trauma bonds. That life shines so bright that notbing could dim it. I just hope one day it continues to shine when everyone else wishes to steal from it.

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