“I love you.”
These three words, forbidden and precious, were once whispered into my ears. To those little seeds of passionate emotions, these words were like spring water, nourishing and life-giving. I blossomed under those words, drenched in the liquid fervour that comes with every ardent enthusiasm. I often pondered over the meaning of those words; where does the intensity of its definition lie, in the spoken or in the perceived?
I was, in a previous life, prudent with these words, even though I demanded that the bearer of those same words be regular with its utterance. Did it lead to my downfall, to be all-receiving and non-giving? Now I live a renewed existence, enveloped in the buoyancy of supple tenderness, occasionally brought down to earth by thorns puncturing my skin, awakening all senses, in every sense of the word. I give and give generously, and receive and receive accordingly. Because I deserve so.
But these words, these very delicately personal declarations of my adoration, were taken away from me. They were no longer mine. Haunted by my carelessness, I pondered again, the meaning of those words: where does the intensity of its definition lie, in the truths or in the lies?