My attention is focused on how he has become a huge part of my life. I describe how happy I am to be having someone like him. I pen down all the mushy feelings I feel for him, how he really inspire me on a day-to-day basis, how his affection has gotten into my nerves and makes me go crazy day by day. I write about that person, how I wanted t have a future with him, how i wanted our life to be for the few years to come. When I’m in love, I write about that person, and let all my literary pieces be about him.
But then when I fall out of love, I still write about that person. How hurtful it was to be losing him, and how sorrowful that day has become when our love has ended. I can describe how painful the pain is; like it’s simply stabbing myself to death, but in a minute I realize that scratching the scar is hard while letting it bleed once more; like I’m digging my very own grave and burying myself alive.
When I fall in love with you, I’ll surely write about you. How you make me happy, how I love you, and how special you are. But don’t try to hurt me. I’d still write about you. But this time, I can kill you with these words left unspoken.
(Source: shyieesolove)
