save a place for yourself, before going out to love.
you don‘t have to know who to love, how to love, or how long your love will last.
just wait for the one time. maybe there will never be the one. but just wait, because it already is your reward.
the culmination of love is blindness.
who, at the peak of happiness, can remember the number of cupid, or any of the fun days around.
she has been patient, believing the best is worth the wait.
yet the last apple fallen from the tree is usually sour.
the love that rocks your soul is hardly the result of a long wait.
the sapling that bears our mark of love has grown into a big tree,
but our once fervent love is lost forever in the wind.
the little mark has become a scar.
when the wind blows, we hear the sigh of the forest…
cruelty of reality. volatile happiness.
those out of sight, are they really not there? those remembered, will they last forever?