drabbles

on types of loving

but maybe it's okay, you know, that no person loves quite the same way another does.

i like to think a lot, about these kinds of things. love is something i've never really understood, and, well, i've always been drawn to things beyond my comprehension.

sometimes people love, like the sun and the moon. an endless chase, leaning in and drawing away. longing glances and lingering brushes, moments stolen in between that last for a fraction of a second before vanishing. the light and the dark, unable to exist without the other but just as unable to touch, to hold and to treasure.

sometimes people love, like the stars in the sky. a shared existence, learning to just be at the right place at the right time. laced fingers and foreheads pressed together, slow touches that are as gentle as they are familiar and warm on each other's skin. the thread to a needle, the paper to a pen, the last piece to a puzzle, something they've both been searching for all their lives and only just found.

sometimes people love, like the oxygen they breathe. a physical ache, needing someone's presence by your side it hurts when they're absent. fingers tangled in shirt corners and tight hugs overflowing with warmth, love that oozes through cracks and tries to fix old wounds. the reason they breathe and drink and eat, only so they can remain by their person's side.