The (subject/issue/topic/idea/notion) (whatever it is) of love was in the midst.
How does one stay inlove?
I want to believe that people can still grow old together. Maybe not have the same ‘throw you up against a wall’ kind of passion. But the ‘i’m not with anyone else because the thought doesn’t cross my mind’ kinda of safety.
Where your life of love and beat of your heart isn’t threatened or ripped from the flesh that so many had so easily torn before.
And after a day of a thousand moments of securing affection I all of a sudden began to worry.
I began to read between the lines. I began to highlight other words in the script of those thousand inbetween moments.
I began wonder whether his heart still belonged to an old yet still flickering flame.
And once again, I began to feel like the second choice. But by now I may have been the fourth.