Love is surrender

I don’t carry my own heart any more; you stole it.

Actually, that’s a lie. I thrust it upon you, regardless of whether you wanted it or not.

Luckily you looked kindly upon my surrender and still do, every day, which I am grateful for, every day. Because every day I know you could take my heart and damage it, crush it even; but you don’t.

That’s what love is, I think. Trust and surrender, bound together in a whimsical mixture that makes us both nauseous and addicted.

The roller coaster we’re all queuing to get on, then never want to get off.
 
 
 
 
 

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