Love does not subside with time.
The thrill might diminish, you might feel used to the person. Even the sorting out of things, or making up for some shout and screams might not be there as it was before.
Tears may go unnoticed, even unshed.
Sometimes I feel that it's the "helpless, getting used to it" that's at work.
Maybe it is. Maybe we need enough balls to say "shut the fuck up" or "stop venting out your irritation for what happened there over here."
But we don't. And then it's time to go and you can't as something else comes up.
And it all drowns in that Greek myth of Lethe.
And we get back to loving again, crying in secret.
Because no matter what, the love bloody never subsides.
The thrill might diminish, you might feel used to the person. Even the sorting out of things, or making up for some shout and screams might not be there as it was before.
Tears may go unnoticed, even unshed.
Sometimes I feel that it's the "helpless, getting used to it" that's at work.
Maybe it is. Maybe we need enough balls to say "shut the fuck up" or "stop venting out your irritation for what happened there over here."
But we don't. And then it's time to go and you can't as something else comes up.
And it all drowns in that Greek myth of Lethe.
And we get back to loving again, crying in secret.
Because no matter what, the love bloody never subsides.
:(
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