But if the story's over, Why am I still writing pages?
Death by a thousand cuts....Taylor swift
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Once upon a time, right here in this town, someone kissed my soul.
It was the dawn of spring, the air fragrant with blooming flowers. The sun's warmth and the birds' jubilant songs filled the day. The breeze whispered secrets, casting a spell of enchantment.
Now, whenever I stand in that same alley, watching petals drift from their lofty perches, memories flood back—how we fell, deeply and irrevocably. The scenery remains unchanged, a constant reminder of emotions once felt. It's almost nostalgic, and I often ponder—why have I never left this street?
Has your soul ever been kissed?
We shared countless moments, precious and too significant to cast aside. Yet, they may not understand, or perhaps I cannot grasp, that even golden memories can weigh heavily and distract. Now, all that remains of our shared past is this town.
"You are the one." Oh, how you whispered like a poem. "You are the one," they echoed, a melody etched into my heart. They say time heals, but perhaps I am akin to a flower encased in ice, frozen in time.
They claim I come alive but once a year when bees harvest nectar from my petals. But how can I bloom anew with only these bittersweet memories?
Has your soul ever been kissed?
We were divine, our love a vibrant red—passionate, intense, yet also the red of a wounded heart. Now, we are but ashes.
What went wrong? I lived for the present, while you chased a future dream. My naivety led me to believe in a forever, a notion now proven folly. Love blinded me, it's true.
It's a melancholy truth that it took so long to see—we soared, yet never far. Our love was doomed from the start, yet we embraced it as if forbidden. And now, am I to thaw and continue living?
What of us? Our shared memories, our sanctuary? Should I discard them as you did?
This street… I gaze upon it once more; it's spring, yet devoid of color. A stark realization dawns:
It's all a lie when they promise you forever. But it is true when they say they care. But only for a while, when there is still fire, burning strong, and when it dims, they even kill the sparks, like it was never there. Only the aftermath of the horrors, when you look back and shiver, of what you gave and what you've lost; like serving a curse. An eternal scar. A reminder. Now that's forever.
Has your soul ever been kissed?