Long Loves the iliterate

'Hold me tight'-The Beatles

I'm listening to love songs
This year I'm way past that anti valentine spirit. The bitterness escapes. The sighs evaporate.

'I want to hold you'-Staind

He showed me the way to this blank page and painted it.
First orange, then red, then purple.

'Halloween on Christmas?'-Blink 182

I miss you, I really do. I miss being on that edge of myself, speaking my mind on that lovesick lullaby of a moment.
I still gave a soft mushy corner for all those blushful crushes.
But there is a line I recognise between long lasting attraction and fleeting moment of weakness.

I smile at my own maturity, walking beside the one I know so well, throwing him away. There are just a handful of people I'm possessive of and it's slightly surprising to realize he's one of them. I let go of the sand I gripped so tight.

February stars a new interest.
I jerk it off like sand shackled in a shell.

Love traps.
Hate frees.

And I don't know why this is what we believe.

Someone once told me "It takes a lot of strength to fall. To fall in love. To hit your knees on that hard wet ground and say 'I do, would you?' It takes a strong person to fall in love. The weak ones don't trust their hearts."
Coming from a teens mouth, from one hutch puppy to another, this seemed like a pretty regular statement. But 3 years later, it floats back to my selective memory system.

'And they're swimming around a concrete girl'

It sounds like an oxymoron to call myself strong. It feels so wrong when I control that tear.

'And we're standing on top of our hopes and fears.'

Conquered girl? A broken world around her embarrassed by her weak knees.

Now she needs not that protection from all wrong.

"I'm afraid I'm too fearless for a warrior. I'd scare him away with my own little fortress of will power." A princess who didn't start out as a lady in distress...Now that's a story untold!

I took my love down to Violet Hill,
There she sat in the snow.
All this while she was silent still.
If you love me, won't you let me know
Those three words are said too much, they're not enough.

I'd like to play lyrical coda until I reach a believable connection/conclusion.
Here's something I said to myself one morning and it pretty much sums up my current playlist.

How numb can you get?

To be illiterate
Of the art of love.

I confess to myself and to the little world that reads me that I am today unsure, uncertain yet eager. I am a clean slate. Never looking back in anger, fear or regret. Not ready to be worn out by cynics. Not available, caving in to the needs of many to please none of my own.
But here. Just me. Stripped of song, crying out in near desperation for something I always knew I had never properly understood. And when I do, I'll be fit to die.
While I'm here, living one breathe at a time, will anyone care to get the best of me?