Loving is inconsistent
It’s a memory of wishful thinking and self realization
Like the game board full of clues.
Love is hidden, but yet when found, it is like waves being washed upon shore, splashing your feet sending a rush of chills in your bones.
It’s exciting yet scary.
Loving is the heavy breathing you feel when you become close to those eyes that your are afraid of getting to close. Close enough to know that, loving is self destructive.
Real love is. Finding yourself in the depths of no despair.