Figmant

I once loved. That beings and ends my story.It was true, it was real, it was not enough. I didn’t love for an end but without means. It’s perplexing how love has a beauty to compare to none, dually simultaneously the pain of a thousand deaths. I suppose that’s the price you pay for all the time you spent in heaven; your heart. It leaves you with the memories which lingers around all our senses, an aroma in midday as you mundanely buy your coffee…a touch of imitation that pulls you back to a time and place that once was. Sharply you get thrown back to the moment that swept you away, a moment you can never have again but soon it will again tease you one more time, time after that and after that.