After I moved on, there was this gentle longing. How my heart has forgotten their face. How it was no longer painful to look at. Yet there is so much faint sorrow in it. A different form of loneliness. For I’m guessing that I miss being in love. How I held them dear to my heart; and each moment was pure magic.
Memories flowing with the embrace of sweet nothings. And at that moment my eyes were stargazed. My lips were uttering prayers of poetry. For such great love is now a beautiful memory. I cannot help but smile.
Though I am in good terms with all of my past lovers. My heart is just so fond of remembering. For I know that love is a blessing I shouldn’t frown upon.
Yet, it bothers me occasionally to think about who I’ll love. I’ll daydream about the spouse I will someday have. The children we will raise together, or the lovely house we will live in.
And at the same time, I fear growing old alone.
Yet I realize that this point is meaningless. For my mother once told me “What makes you think a partner will complete you?”. And I had an epiphany.
For I realized that ‘yes, a lover is indeed a blessing,’. But a lover is not the measure of my worth. It is not a prerequisite for self -validation.
Whether I find the love of my life; or another soul kisses my heart goodbye. I know that I do not need to find the other piece of my heart.
For I was always whole, to begin with. I am complete no matter what society says. May love come or not. I will always be enough.