How can one brush off
all of the memories,
all of the feelings,
all of the struggles,
into a dustpan and toss it out?
Did it hurt to pick up the pieces?
Was it hard to resist the urge of putting it all back together?
Were they painful to pick up?
They say love is a crazy thing.
But what makes it so crazy?
The way it makes you feel invincible
And way it makes you feel helpless?
Is it the euphoric sensation of free falling into what you call love?
Or the way it drives you insane because you’d do ANYTHING for it?
I bet it feels nice to finally feel like you are out of control,
Because if something goes wrong, at least it isn't your fault, right?
Love may be crazy, but it is also beautiful.
But what is the definition of beauty?
It’s open for interpretation, it is different for everyone.
Unfortunately, we did not meet eye to eye with this.
Beauty is not only seen, but felt.
Beauty is not only felt, but heard.
Beauty is not only heard, but touched.
Beauty is not only touched, it is priceless.
There is no definitive value to beauty,
And so, it is nearly impossible to indefinitely know how much it is worth fighting for.
But do not count the money wasted,
The future plans,
The tears shed,
The hours awake,
The nights out,
And the kisses given.
Pain is temporary.
Love is endless.
Do not expect yourself to get stronger,
Each time you put someone down harder,
Because in the end,
You will be the one running from the pain,
While you leave another in vain,
Saying you’re off to find better,
To do better,
To feel better.
But how will you have better
When it was "the best you've ever had"?