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A Love Quote
At this point in my life I'd like to live as if only love mattered. --Tracy Chapman



Love Stories @ RomanceClass -
But it was over. In the end, it was love that kept them apart

At first it was frienship that brought them together. As time passed he began to notice his natural desire to be with her more. He wanted to incite her laughter which chimed in his heart and made him sigh with glee. He wanted to hold her hand...among other things...He wanted to protect her. But, she never seemed to show any significant interest toward him. Finally, after a long time of being forward, the boy stopped; afterall, he was a gentleman and it would be closer to herassment that flirtation if she did not feel the same way that he did. The absense caused her to realize the emotion brewing inside her. She began to be forward with him. But it was too late. He did not want her anymore. He had tried his best and had done all he could. He avoided her and tried not to flirt. In a hidden place, he felt special and appreciated the attention. A short month later, they had hit it off and began to date. They spent every night on the phone, the last person to hear their voice before sleep took them. They would go on dates to museums and to art fairs. They went to the movies and to the park. They acted like children and even though they had become the most mature of adults. They cried and the sang. They were torn apart with no chance of communication through unavoidable circumstance. The night before she had to leave for an entire month they went the swings and sat. They laughed and they cried. The laid out on the concrete at late night and watched the swift moon dance across the sky as their time grew short. They pointed at the stars and sniggered like at the beginning. It was the heart that was becoming close. But at first it was infatuation. She came back after a month absense and it was hard. Had they changed? But no. They sat there again, and watched the same moon and the same stars and they half each other and felt the undying embers spark. The burning of the first love was flowing with energy. Over time they had little bickers, and little fights. But it was nothing. They went to dances and they went on dates. They went on hikes and they made their own nicknames. Lobster he said. For life it meant. Lobster she said. The infatuation flowed. And when that died away, it was replaced with something much more powerful and potent. It was a contentment that lubricated their hearts and dripped to their souls. They became one. They thought in each others minds, and felt in each others hearts. It was so potent that it was impossible to imagine life without them. A year, a year and a half. College came and mature enough to decide on their own, they had chosen their paths; apart. They sighed, but promised with their mind, and with their hearts and with their souls that they would be together and make it through. Oh how their time flew and how they loved. It was easy to love. So easy to just be. And then she went, months before him, and time passed. They talked. They cried and the laughed. They thought in each others minds, and the felt in each others hearts. But one day, she said to him that they would not be. And that her tears would be better spent elsewhere. He cried. He cried tears of panic, tears of pain and tears of agony. The weight on his chest was too great. He begged her to give love a chance and to reconsider. After a short time she insisted that she was happier now than before. He was crushed and fell. He did not sleep. He was now complete as no one person should have to be. He had felt all. But he moved on after significant time and became friendly with others, but it could not be the same. He had shared his mind which could heal. He had shared his heart, which could grow back. But he had shared his soul, which would be hers forever. How he wished he could take it back. But he had a piece of hers, and it tormented him. It plegged him. He lacked the energy to give like before. He had wanted her to be the one. And he had wanted her and only her, always. It was perfect and she had thrown it away, and stomped on his sacrifice. Had she not also given? After a long while, he his emotions had dulled and his mind had hardened. He was alone, but happy again. And then, one day, she came back to him and professed her love. Did he love? No! Wait. Yes? Yes, he did love her but it was not the same. The pain had tainted the purity and the agony had blurred the mind and blocked the connection that the love burned as fuel. He knew it to be true that she was still the one, but he could not. It was not pride. It was not so simple. He loved her. If he did not still love her, maybe. But it was over. In the end, it was love that kept them apart.






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