Love, again

You thought you've lost it all. But lately you realized where you've left it all along. Now, you cleave to it once more. Feels strange. Feels freedom.

Solitude. You lived in a bubble. A road-less-traveled existence, as it seems. It felt safe. Quiet.
The coffee shop, the sweet aroma from cups of steaming cappuccino, rows and rows of poetry titles at the bookshop, the sea breeze softly caressing your face as you idly threw pebbles and watched the ripples it created on the water before you, the warmth of the sun on your skin as you dug your bare feet into the sand. . . your haven. Your quiet refuge. Yours only.

Intrusion. Then you took it in. No matter how odd it felt, but, yeah, you fell for it. And it broke your code... of solitude. You welcomed it into your world. Soon, the bubble was too small. You left your solitude. You held it close. It was real... for a time.

Blown away. Slowly, it slipped away. Somehow you just let it. When you realized how much it meant to you, it was gone. Blown away. You crawled back into your bubble. But, the solitude that once comforted you only seemed to further the emptiness you felt without it. You sought refuge in the security of your busy-world —work, work, work, work, and work. That, too, didn't hold long. Too shallow. It hurt so bad.

Crumbled. You did everything, but nothing that-really-mattered, to keep yourself safe from "yourself". You easily mastered the tough act. Deep within, it was tearing you apart. You'd recoil at the slightest contact, cringe at the lightest touch. Nothing ever came close or you'd quickly pull away. But you can't hold your defenses. That, too, crumbled.

Healing. Time heals. It finds you. Slowly, it got into you, again. It eased your pains. It gently soothed your scars. You're yielding. Love, you realized, has many faces. The one before you now is healing. Comforting. A family. A best friend. Or maybe. . .
I think I’ve discovered the secret of life —you just hang around until you get used to it.  ~Charles Schulz

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