Photo by Marc A. Sporys on Unsplash

Falling in love with delicate wounds of your past.

Slight touches and rhythmic breathing patterns of someone you held very close to your heart.

Holding their gaze with a tender expression to not break their dainty haze.

With perfect storms and the blizzard rain and even in the midst of it all, you still find yourself chanting their name. Cursing their name. Hopelessly. How cruel is that?

You feeding yourselves thorns from the field of roses you gardened for them?

When you love someone in pieces and the whole of you craves for even the tiny of them.

When your handpicked wounds are wrapped around in a linen white piece of their shirt.

It's them.

It's the idea of falling in love.

But what is love?

90% of the love is just being there and showing up,

And the 10% of it is holding hands, caressing the back of your neck, holding your hair back when you bow down to tie your shoelaces, learning curse words together, talking about adopting a cat together, singing songs together, Heating ramen while he does everything but cook in the kitchen with you at 8 am together, discussing football when she knows nothing about it — discussing her favourite book when he knows nothing about it at 3 in the morning together, sharing childhood pictures, calling him bro but marriedly – calling her dude but romantically almost every day in sync together...

Finding references to unalloyed mankind in the lock of his pristine curls — Finding sterling religion in the curve of her spines while they share one blanket together,

In the end, kissing the living souls out of each other; as they fall in love together.

Just how much are YOU in love?

He doesn't do much but smile and I tell the moon about it.

He doesn't do much but look at me and I praise the sea stars for it.

He doesn't do much but fondle the back of my hand and it's like my knuckles bow down in solitude.

He doesn't do much but everything in little things escorting me to an embrace of gazillion elevated Celestial bodies embodied in him.

How in love, you ask?

It's like he breathes and I am in love.

It's like he exists and I am in love.

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