“Leave before he leaves you” my mind races. That's all love is to this generation. A series of doors slammed shut behind us in the abyss of darkness disillusioned with confidence that we’ll find another flame to take us out of the lonely winter. When summer arrives the flames that saved us from the cold becomes too hot to withstand. Just like “the one” before. I only hope that future generations despise the way we love and aspire to become more gentle with each other's hearts, minds, and souls. Only to experience a love without fear and pride. To learn how to communicate their needs to their partners and for their partners to listen without bruising their egos. To feel safe in the warmth of their arms around you without burning you. To kiss their soft lips that wouldn't dare tell you a lie. To trust their sweet words of affirmations and reassurances whispering “I'll never let you go”. Understand that love isn't the butterflies you get when you meet for the first time. Love is built with patience and compassion through hardships you go through to fan the flames two people lit.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Andrea Nino and writers in Poets and other communities.
Where Ever You Are
“The results come out today” my sister says through facetime. Her phone dings letting us know they are here. As my mom held the camera toward her she opens the email. Pulling the phone to her chest to hide the screen she says “I’m scared what if I don’t make it” my mom reassures her “you always have next year”. The anticipation builds as they go back and forward between uncertainty and false confidence. My vision begins to narrow down as I disassociate. The anxiety finally got to mom and forces her to look at the results. “Fine… I made it!” she exclaims “I told you would” mom proudly says. My sister cries out of happiness and relief as mom gloats about having a dancer for another year. In the mean time I am 3 hours away. Through the excitement I can feel the hollow space between my sister and I. They sound as if they were a distant memory recorded through tape. “Of course you would make it. You put in a lot of work last year and showed improvement”. I know I said it but I did not feel one syllable on my lips. We end the call and I sit in the loud silence of my room living in the past when I would get mad at my sister for not knocking on my door before entering or when we would practice to make tiktoks she would never post. Back to when I didn’t realize she was my home.
By Andrea Nino2 years ago in Poets
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.