soulmate

Have you ever felt really close to someone? So close that you can't understand why you and the other person have two separate bodies, two separate skins?

Home at last. Why was I not feeling relief? I turn in m bed thinking of the last time that I had laid my head on that pillow. Sadness took over me almost instantly. A pillow soaked in tears, the feeling of someone tearing a part of my chest out, it replayed in my head as if it had happened yesterday. I coculdn't believe that that girl was me. I was so much stronger than that, how had I allowed myself to become so vulnerable? I never thought that I would be the girl who'd get her heart broken. I never thought that he'd be the one to break it. But I was, and I know he did. I know, because, no one will ever know how much I cried that night.

In my experience, there never seems to be a man or woman who will walk in and literally sweep you off your feet, or away, when you're in the biggest distaster of your life. If it happens, it'll be guaranteed he or she won't be the one you've longed for. Yeah...we all still seem to be waiting for Mr. or Ms. Right.

Don__ stop saying, __ love you_ to your soul mate.

Grief__n all of its agony__urrowed deep into her essence, its serrated edges killing her piece by piece.

Love is a universal language.

All the beaches of the world, could never amount to, nor implore the one grain of sand that I stand on, which is your love.

When you fall in love, you land on a cloud.

We wish to be loved as we ourselves would love. Any other way makes as uncomfortable. We respond with doubt and suspicion. We misinterpret the signs. We do not understand the language. We accuse. We assert that the other person does not love us. But perhaps he merely loves us in some idiosyncratic way that we fail to recognize.

Soulmates are those people who will enter your life, fix it when it is broken, fill it when it is empty, and shower it with love when it is in drought. These people are not perfect, but they make every bit of your life, perfect for you.

She just smiled, said that she loved books more than anything, and started telling him excitedly what each of the ones in her lap was about. And Ove realised that he wanted to hear her talking about the things she loved for the rest of his life.

Love Just Happens"Love just happensWhen you are not looking for it,Not paying attention,Unaware.You could miss it the first few times,But then, unexpectedly, Somehow this invisible magnetic energyPulls you and another person together.And you feel this beautiful magic,Like a gravitational force -As if the moon were kissing the sun.And their name,Becomes the most hypnotic nameAnd you die to see their eyesWhen you open yoursEvery time.Love just happensWhen you least expect itAt any locationAt any time.It never announces its arrivalBut when it does find youIts warmth is so strongIt may frighten youYou could close your eyes and feel itAnd feel themNo matter where you areOr they areEvery time.Love just happensAnd it happens to everybody.But some people have their sensors off,Or hide from it,Or constantly look for it.Just don't think about it.Open your heart and it will find you.It always does.Whenever you think it forgot about you,It will hit you.Just like that _ Every time.Love just happens.

We are going to have that thing everyone talks about, that indescribable, indefinable thing that everybody wants to find...Here's to endless stargazing.

Fell in love first,Fell in love quickly__ike I was pushed.Fell in love next,Fell in love slowly__ike I was strolling.Falling in love now And feeling crazy.Thinking of closing my eyesAnd jumping.

To be one of a pair of bodies that knew that melting fusion. To reach and find. To be and reached for and found. To belong to a mutual certainty. To wake up holding hands.

I call you my soulmate because I lost myself in you and then found myself through you. Sure, when you are gone, I will be a fraction but the common denominator has always been me.

There was something in her eyes that made me trust her. Maybe it was because they held the same cynicism, the same world-weariness I saw in my own every morning when I looked at myself in the mirror.

Like the cotton-carder who combs tangled cotton into a long bundle of fibre, you take all my knotted fragments and comb them into light.