I remember those four walls all too well, the touching of skin, his hot breath on my bare neck. I remember the floor, and the sun peeking through those white blinds, it was like a green house in there. Bare but beautiful, so natural, those gorgeous canvases filled with gentle brushstrokes . Each one telling a story. I remember how good it made me feel, how good he made me feel. And I remember nothing really happening aside from staring , staring into his hazel eyes. And wishing, wishing he'd be mine forever. Of course I knew that never really would happen though, it was a fling, and I knew that, he knew that, but at times it felt like more than that, a long term thing I guess. But I don't know about him though, it all felt so real one day, and a dream the next. Every thing was just so surreal. We were like an unfinished masterpiece.
Love is supposed to heal most things, although it seems to be the one causing all my pain.
What I've learnt from all of this, is that love is beautiful and is what most people live for.
But better left a mystery.
