young-love

Our lips were for each other and our eyes were full of dreams. We knew nothing of travel and we knew nothing of loss. Ours was a world of eternal spring, until the summer came.

_, Muse of the Heart__ Passion,let me relive my Love__ memory,to remember her body, so brave and so free,and the sound of my Dreameress singing to me,and the scent of my Dreameress sleeping by me,_, sing, sweet Muse, my soliloquy!

Because I want to know if I'm allowed to kiss your tears away. Because I want to be able to hold your hand. Because I like you.

He was acting like our kiss had broken him, and his reaction was breaking me.

Young love is common, but that doesn't mean it's not precious.

The spiritual and the physical had been blended in us with a perfection that must remain incomprehensible to the matter-of-fact, crude, standard-brained youngsters of today. Long after her death I felt her thoughts floating through mine. Long before we met we had had the same dreams.

It was quite a beautiful thing, the way we simply just came to be. With no effort or trying, just slowly finding each other__ hands in the dark. No chains or promises, just a simple sign of hopethat things will go on and get better.

You__e thinking, maybe it would be easier to let it sliplet it gosay __ give up_ one last time and give him a sad smile.You__e thinkingit shouldn__ be this hard,shouldn__ be this dark,thinkinglove could flow easily with no holding backand you__e seen others find their match and build something greattogether,of each other,like two halves fitting perfectly and now they achieve great thingsone by one, always together, and it seems grand.But you love him. Love him like a black stone in your chest you couldn__ live without because it fits in there. Makes you who you are and the thought of him gone__o more__akes your chest tighten up and maybe this is your fairytale. Maybe this is your castle.You could get it all on a shiny piece of glass with wooden stools and a neverending blooming gardenbut that__ not yours. This is yours. The cracks and the faults, the ugly words in the winterwalking home alone and angrybut falling asleep thinking you love him.This is your fairy tale. The quiet in the hallway, wishing for him to turn around, tell you to stay, tell you to please don__ go I need youlike you need meand maybe it__ not a Jane Austen novel but this is your novel and your castleand you can run from it your whole life but this is herein front of you.Maybe nurture it?Sweet girl, maybe close the world off and look at him for an houror two.This is your fairy. It ain__ perfect and it ain__ honey sweet with roses on the bed.It__ real and raw and ugly at times. But this is your love. Don__ throw it away searching for someone else__ love. Don__ be greedy. Instead, shelter it. Protect it. Capture every second of easy, pull through every storm of hardship. And when you can, look at him, lying next to you, trusting you not to harm him. Trusting you not to go. Be someone__ someone for someone.Be that someone for him.That__ your fairy tale. This is your castle.Now move in. Build a home. Build a house. Build a safety around things you love. It__ yours if you make it so.Welcome home, sweet girl, it will be all be fine.

How would Elijah ever understand a life that is dark more than light? Or a shadow of someone who follows her around, and when she least expects it, taps her on the back and asks, where are you going, Seraphina?

The butterflies swirl again in Sera__ stomach. Perhaps they have brought along fireflies too, to light up her soul.

He reflects on all the times he thought she wasn__ sure of her feelings for him, when perhaps she might__e been taking a leisurely stroll across Elijah__ heart, leaving footprints behind that he__ never seen.

This is the hour I hide everythingBehind my eyesTo see if you can seeAll the trouble my brain's been brewing. Yes, I feel I am the worst and you are the bestAnd yet, and yet, Nothing bad unfolds as we sit,Young and nervous, Alive and bursting,With futures that may not entwine.Who am I?Who am I to sabotage what may be too smallFor even chaos to noticeAnd disassemble?

I had let down my shields, that was the problem. The crazy inside Dad had infected me, weakened me so that when Finn smiled, I'd been vulnerable. I'd dropped my shields and let myself pretend that somebody like Finn would want to be with somebody like me.

For no matter the shadows of an age, the picture of a young couple in love, we are told, speaks most luminously of the future, as the span of that passion makes us believe we can overleap any walls, obliterate whatever obstacles.

Dear Teenage Self,That guy you're crazy about,Will ask you out On a dateIn about ten years, so don't fretYou'll get there yet.But fate is cruelOn that day,That feeling will have gone away.

I was falling in love with her, and she was falling in love with me. It was fated, decided before any of us were born, and I hated it as much as I loved it. I could barely stand it. (Eric)

Chaos within destiny. It was the definition of our love.

Without knowing why or how, I found myself in love with this strange Wanderess. Maybe I was just in love with the dream she was selling me: a life of destiny and fate; as my own life up until we met had been so void of enchantment. Those things: mystery, fate, enchantment... they are things that young people offer us as soon as we get close to them. And if we're not careful, we can be seduced by, and drawn back into, the youthful world they preside over.