Every time I have loved a woman it left a mark on me and became a part of what I think love is. Every failed love, when I was fooled or got lost in deception is marked on me. When I loved and lost there is a scar left behind. Sometimes it all combines to make me not want to love again which is always followed with the sure knowing that love is like air to breathe; I must have it. A few days ago I came across a perspective that helps. Love is like grass. If you fall on it, it may leave a stain and some temporary pain. But you’ll get over the pain, it will eventually stop hurting. Now maybe the stain ruined your favorite pair of jeans, or maybe it was nothing special that was ruined, but either way the stain remains there. And with time, it will begin to fade, but it will always be there, a permanent reminder that you, too, once fell. And if I fell once or fifty times… I can fall again.
We are not held back by the love
we didn’t receive in the past,
but by the love
we’re not extending in the present.