I’ve always mused over the fact how no one loves me the way I crave to be loved. A ‘vast as the blue skies’, as the open green grounds kind of love, a peculiar love with hints of secrecy, bizarreness attached to it where the mind ceases to be narrow and bursts open to love and it’s newness.
Something low-key scandalous, for the forbidden fruit always tastes divine, a possessive love which demands for the real deal – the earth-shattering experience.
I want that undeniable chemistry which explodes on contact, an aesthetically pleasing love, a love deeper than the depths of the ocean and it’s terrifying still unknown secrets, a love that celebrates simple laughter and cherishes others around us too, for this love is loving our own selves yet so selfless.
Like the waves-kissing-the-shore love,
like the love-you-to-the-moon and back love,
a love so strong : the stench overpowers the odours of negativity making positivity rush into our hearts.
A heart-breaking-so-worth-it love.
A bed-breaking love.
I want that kind of love… the kind that poets bleed their hearts over, the type that writers go crazy over, the type that writers go crazy over, the kind painters could paint even blindly… the kind that matches the fire burning our aching hearts and the fire playing on our lips dying to taste our love.
And, my dear, you too don’t deserve any less. You deserve that, and much more.
[Featured Image is from here.]