I Won’t Give Up

Maybe moving on doesn’t necessarily mean giving up. At a point in time, her broken self contoured perfectly with my jagged edges. It was beautiful. We were beautiful. But like all things, that has all come to pass. She’s slowly putting herself back together, and my edges have become jaded. We are now two different pieces of a puzzle we once were both a part of. Of course, one should not force two pieces that don’t belong. Move on. Moving on doesn’t mean giving up. The gorgeousness of the mess we made won’t fade away in vain. Looking down at our stained clothing, it becomes clear that it was for the best—the fact that we had the chance to play in the dirt, so our souls could know the feeling of mud in our shoes. After all, to know love, one has to know pain; and when all is said and done, we’ll still feel the rain against our skin. Eyes closed, at peace, we’re still beautiful.

Notes

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