We love a little too hard at times we were not supposed to love at all. We immerse in people, like paintings, that we were not supposed to even touch, sometimes because the paint was wet and sometimes because the painting was just so expensive.
But we defied the warnings made to us and ignored the doubts that we should have housed. We went on listening to our stupid hearts and we not only touched the painting, but we ruined it with our unworthy fingers, staining them.
The way we see love is not always the same way the person we love sees it. We put a little too much glitter in it and expect them to embrace it when it only annoys them, when theirs is the kind of love that is hidden behind doors, that is only whispers in the ear and not announcements in the open.
We laugh out loud, we show our joy and we hug because that is how we love, only to be told to not make a show of it; only to be told that love is too sacred a thing and ours, definitely, needs close doors to grow in. We are told that it is too precious to be felt by anyone but us and too fragile, just yet, to be out in the open. – Continue reading on next page