love always came so early for you. love was standing at your doorsteps with promises of a future filled with hopes while it rained of desolation upon us rest. you didn't even have to bother to walk up to it because somehow it always followed; like a bird searching for a place to make its nest. love always came so early for you. at your breakfast table when your dad joked and laughed and poured the cereal into your bowl and when your mother didn't tell you that you're the mirror in which she sees all her flaws. she instead hugged you goodbye but you still ran away with your friends because somehow even that didn't suffice. it never did for you and I can't help but ask you why?
love always came early to you. it was always there. in your childhood home and the flowers at your bedside. in the faces of the boys whom you loved and even on those whom you did not. love was there in your reflection, a shadow trailing at your footsteps. it stayed with you. it painted itself across your face. I guess, love loved you.
and I think that's why it never came to me.
