unrequited-love

Girls spilled drinks down their dresses and flicked their hair. Wishing anyone, maybe even you, would notice them... You were someone to me.

I watched you try on suits in Hugo Boss.__or the big job,_ you said. And I laughed, because I knew I would never see it. I__ never get up and watch you put it on and walk out of the door. I would never be the one that you came home to.

You wanted a wife but I wasstill a girl.

Relationships are never complicated. You__e either together or you__e not. If someone says it__ complicated, it really just means someone__ killing time until something better comes along.

f you are ready to cry..to feel the pain..to take the risk? You are ready for love

We were talking nonsense, and I said something silly about unrequited love, and he became very serious, and he stopped me, and he said that unrequited love was not possible; that it was not love. He said that love must be freely given, and freely taken, such that the lovers, in joining, make equal halves of something whole.

She had assumed they would see each other every day but she hadn__ really thought about the implications of having an affair with a married man. It wasn__ going to be a normal relationship.

I wanted to punch him and understand him at the same time.

My heart had been touched by him, battered by him, cradled by him as the days passed. He was cruel without meaning to be yet he was kind, and I needed him too much to let myself want him

You may marry Miss Grey for her fifteen pounds but you will always be my Willoughby. My nightmare. My sorrow. My past. My mistake. My regret. My love.

It's delicious to have people adore you, but it's exhausting, too. Particularly when your own feelings don't match theirs.

According to science/religion/philosophy, there is a part/piece/place in our body that is the source of our energy. It has no end or beginning. It is the concentration of everything that we are made up of. It is our version of the Chicago-fire that burns us down, only to make us emerge from our ashes like the Phoenix. It makes us who we are. Unfortunately, it hasn__ been named yet. They can__ find a word in any language that can explain the sheer beauty and infinite power that it holds. They must have never met you. If it were up to me, I would have named __t_ after you. You.

Your memory feels like home to me.So whenever my mind wanders, it always finds it__ way back to you.

She loved him. But he didn__ know how to love.He could talk about love. He could see love and feel love. But he couldn__ give love.He could make love. But he couldn__ make promises.She had desperately wanted his promises.She wanted his heart, knew she couldn__ have it so she took what she could get.Temporary bliss. Passionate highs and lows. Withdrawal and manipulation.He only stayed long enough to take what he needed and keep moving.If he stopped moving, he would self-destruct.If he stopped wandering, he would have to face himself.He chose to stay in the dark where he couldn__ see.If he exposed himself and the sun came out, he__ see his shadow.He was deathly afraid of his shadow.She saw his shadow, loved it, understood it. Saw potential in it.She thought her love would change him.He pushed and he pulled, tested boundaries, thinking she would never leave.He knew he was hurting her, but didn__ know how to share anything but pain.He was only comfortable in chaos. Claiming souls before they could claim him.Her love, her body, she had given to him and he__ taken with such feigned sincerity, absorbing every drop of her.His dark heart concealed.She__ let him enter her spirit and stroke her soul where everything is love and sensation and surrender.Wide open, exposed to deception.It had never occurred to her that this desire was not love.It was blinding the way she wanted him.She couldn__ see what was really happening, only what she wanted to happen.She suspected that he would always seek to minimize the risk of being split open, his secrets revealed.He valued his soul__ privacy far more than he valued the intimacy of sincere connection so he kept his distance at any and all costs.Intimacy would lead to his undoing__n his mind, an irrational and indulgent mistake.When she discovered his indiscretions, she threw love in his face and beat him with it.Somewhere deep down, in her labyrinth, her intricacy, the darkest part of her soul, she relished the mayhem.She felt a sense of privilege for having such passion in her life.He stirred her core.The place she dared not enter.The place she could not stir for herself.But something wasn__ right.His eyes were cold and dark.His energy, unaffected.He laughed at her and her antics, told her she was a mess.Frantic, she looked for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, in his stance, and she found nothing but disdain.And her heart stopped.

There was a time when our desire for each other would have landed us in an asylum or prison, had it not been sanctioned by mutual assent. True or false.

Among my stillness was a pounding heart.

Its been six weeks," he murmured. "Six weeks I've wanted you. I know how you move, and how the sunlight makes a shadow on the curve of your cheek, and the shape of your ear." He chucked harshly then turned his head on the pillow to look at her. "I'm dying," he said. He dropped his fist against his chest. "Right here, you're killing me.

He shrank from hearing Margaret's very name mentioned; he, while he blamed her _ while he was jealous of her _ while he renounced her _ he loved her sorely, in spite of himself.