The second time I was in love.
The second time I was in love.
Tired and dead inside, I had broken down innumerous times after I walked away from the one I was madly in love with , I was pretty sure at that time that I could never fall in love again ,But life has a way of proving us wrong whenever we take something for granted.
The second time I fell in love was absolutely involuntary, and yet most willingly of me. I had no idea that “love” was not one time thing, that one can fall in love several times.
The second time I was in love, heartbreaks seemed a little too unreal, and fairy tales- a little more real. It was like a picture book with a love story. The colours were a little too bright and the words a little too big. Childhood dreams which were crushed by adulthood. Monotonous lives and nomads. We talked about everything from how your heart wanders about when you're alone to when I get drunk while the wall stares at me for too long.
Falling in love the second time was miraculous as well as magical. We used believe that we were magic, that both of us were held together by some pixie dust.
The second time I fell in love, I did not tell hER that I was in love with him. Not because I was unsure about my feelings but because it was too dreamy to be called love. The second time love happened, I handled it with care. The day She told me that I behaved like hER EX, I knew that I had completely given myself to hER . The second time I fell in love, it had no boundaries, no rules. It was a dream come true.
But the love stories I live are not meant to be complete. And so, the second I fell in love, it made me a little more mature but left me, yet again, a little too reckless, making me a little more prone to breaking my own heart.
Tired and dead inside, I had broken down innumerous times after I walked away from the one I was madly in love with , I was pretty sure at that time that I could never fall in love again ,But life has a way of proving us wrong whenever we take something for granted.
The second time I fell in love was absolutely involuntary, and yet most willingly of me. I had no idea that “love” was not one time thing, that one can fall in love several times.
The second time I was in love, heartbreaks seemed a little too unreal, and fairy tales- a little more real. It was like a picture book with a love story. The colours were a little too bright and the words a little too big. Childhood dreams which were crushed by adulthood. Monotonous lives and nomads. We talked about everything from how your heart wanders about when you're alone to when I get drunk while the wall stares at me for too long.
Falling in love the second time was miraculous as well as magical. We used believe that we were magic, that both of us were held together by some pixie dust.
The second time I fell in love, I did not tell hER that I was in love with him. Not because I was unsure about my feelings but because it was too dreamy to be called love. The second time love happened, I handled it with care. The day She told me that I behaved like hER EX, I knew that I had completely given myself to hER . The second time I fell in love, it had no boundaries, no rules. It was a dream come true.
But the love stories I live are not meant to be complete. And so, the second I fell in love, it made me a little more mature but left me, yet again, a little too reckless, making me a little more prone to breaking my own heart.
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