I sat down to write about love on this day, Valentine’s Day, and all I was able to drum up were crossed out lines and blank sheets of paper.
I dug through old journals and poems for inspiration and again came up empty handed.
And then I thought, maybe, maybe this is because true love itself isn’t easy.
Maybe it isn’t a necklace or chocolates or flowers or hearts wrapped in a bow and easy mornings that flow into easy evenings. Maybe true love is finding the pieces of you that you never knew existed and facing yourself in a way you haven’t before. Maybe that’s why the words don’t exist.
Maybe it’s trusting your heart with someone else’s and there will never be enough ink to put that into a sentence. Maybe it’s thinking about this person with every action you take and seeing them in everything that you do, and maybe that can’t be narrowed down to one day a year.
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Maybe it’s a poem that can never be written because maybe it’s always rewriting itself.
~
Relephant:
The Truth About “True Love.”
~
Author: Leah Sallen
Image: Author’s Own
Editor: Catherine Monkman
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Absolutely love the realness of this. Thank you! <3
I have never read something so simple and so true!!! This is it!!!!!
Very powerful words, very beautifully expressed. It made me really pause and reflect. Thank you!