26 October 2011

It’s that love that you feel needs a special name. Fondness. That place where you wonder, and you realize you care so much because of all those little things you notice, the quirks. Like the way their mouth is shaped, the look of concentration, the superstitious rituals, wavy hair, the shocked look, eyeslashes being fondled, the way a hand fits a hip, a pen held between teeth. A calm, filling sort of love that feel like a warm, home-cooked meal with the most beloved of friends surrounding your table. Like the uplifting once sorrow’s grip lets go and well being takes it’s place. It doesn’t take effort. It’s that gentle caress of fingers over a cheek, tucking hair behind an ear, a hug when you feel like nobody knows a thing. Mellow and deep, though passionate in it’s own way.


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