Every now and then it jumps at me. From behind corners and out of the shadow at times and in place I didn't expect to see him. The realisation of how much I am still in love.
Not obsessively as some have suggested.
But enough.
More than enough to be just happy when I catch a glimpse of him, enough to be jealous of every woman he looks at, enough to be unhappy because he'll never love me, enough to sometimes wish I'd never met him, enough to make my heart skip a beat when he smiles at me, enough to adore the ground he treads on, enough to make my knees grow weak at the thought of being in one room.
But other than that I feel nothing. Is this what she means with "Accept"?
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