Love is not about the graceful and tender kiss against your collar bone. It is not about the caress of words as they make love to your ears or the smile that promises more. More aptly, love is the gnashing of teeth, the sharp and brutal way two hearts collide. It is the one-two step while dancing with hope but despair is wreaking havoc deep inside. It is offering heaven but producing hell. Love is about dripping frustration from your pours while tripping over sentences, and no, it is never going to stop hurting.
While in love you will plunge into darkness and become friends with confusion. You develop the perfect outer face while throwing pens against the wall. There is an art in it all. You will write angry verses and smear the ink while wondering if this is because you are too insecure, too self-absorbed. It is all of your imperfections becoming your identity while the world is waiting for you to fall.
But, my love, if you hold on too tight then you will never move forward. Love has never promised to be simple and hearts can be spiteful. You will spew anger and weep frustration while stitching yourself up time and time again. Yet, in the end, you will never be a sculpture anymore.Others will have smashed you and pain will have burned you. You will have fired many bullets of your own.
It was never promised to be an easy ride nor should you have expected it to be. However, beauty is there. Once the hurricane has thrashed you beyond recognition, you will cover those bruised knees and the earth will stop playing with your balance. You will be able to drop the jaded skin you have grown too close to and your bones will once more grind together, and it will be magnificent. It is then, a boy will come along with bow-legged grace and no, you will not fall into his arms because your spine has grown used to standing on its own.
Instead, you will walk forward, meeting him halfway. The umbrella you carried to stand against the hurricane will be tossed away. By this time you have already risen from the ashes like a phoenix to be born again. It will not have been pretty or easy, but you will be whole once more. Your skin will be rough and your heart will tighten, bu you will be a survivor.
There is nothing graceful or easy because love is a whirlwind.
But, today, you begin to learn to fly.
When you find the one who is worth the pain, love is finally beautiful.
Inked Peacock Tales 
I love the wisdom in your words Anja…you are right it is foolhardy to accept that love is easy. The older we get the more we crave it but the more we see how easy it is for love to become difficult and exhausting.
So often our own expectations are not met because we don’t always see the other person in the equation, we focus on our own needs and forget that what we desire is our agenda not that of our partner.
Love can be that whirlwind you mention and being able to fly is the challenge for us all. For many recognising the need to fly is an achievement in itself.
I agree too that when you find the one to love, the pain does become worthwhile though at times you are confronted with doubt.
Great post Anja, so much to think about…..and of course have an opinion or two as well..
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Fortunately, or is if unfortunately, wisdom comes from experience. I guess as long as we learn from past mistakes makes it worthwhile. Right?
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Yes indeed, but there are times when some wisdom in youth might have come in handy….hope you had a great Christmas Day…
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Another gem, Anja.
You are still pouring out your innermost thoughts in passionate but beautifully structured poetic prose.
So much truth in what you say, so much honesty and pain.
I applaud you once again, sweet lady.
And I will take your word for your conclusion.
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How many times can I thank you for always offering the kindest of words. You did mention a week ago about me writing more so I hope I do not disappoint.
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There is nothing disappointing about you, Anja, in your writing or your sweet self.
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