I Was Born With A Songbird In My Heart.

I was born with a songbird in my heart.

When I was a child, my mother told me “Songbirds are meant for duets,” and promised That some day I would meet another heart That sings in perfect harmony with mine.

But I was still young, and everything changed.

“The song in your heart is too good for him,” My mother told me when I was sixteen. She didn’t like the boy I brought home and Disliked the song of his heart even more. She said, “his song is not worthy of yours, And together, you sound like a train wreck.” It would take years for me to realize She didn’t hate his song; she hated how His song changed the melody of my own.

Years later I met the butterfly king; His heart was the loudest I had ever Known. I couldn’t hear my own song over His, and soon I lost myself in the sound. Then one day I awoke to deafening Silence. He’d vanished without a word, and I couldn’t reteach my heart how to sing.

From that point on, my songbird did not sing; It carried a broken tune, humming a Melody too off-beat for anyone To harmonize with. Eventually It grew quiet, resigned to beat alone.

I had just about given up trying To find the song my heart had long since lost When I heard the sweetest sound to ever Grace my presence. Delightfully off-beat, Unlike anything I had ever heard, The song of your heart spoke to mine before The rest of me understood what it meant.

The songbird in my heart fluttered its wings And for the first time in years, sang its song. You looked at me the way one looks at an Eclipse; awestruck and mesmerized, and I Knew you felt it, too. You told me others Have tried to silence your song, but I want To hear you sing; yours is the only song I want to listen to for the rest of My life. I want to wake up to the sound And fall asleep to it every night.

I apologized, “my disappointing Song is nothing compared to the beauty Of yours.” But you smiled at me and rested Your hand over my heart, and placed my hand Over your heart as well. “They beat the same,” You told me as tears began to form in My eyes. “Singing in perfect harmony,” You said, gently brushing away my tears.

When I was a child, my mother told me “songbirds are meant for duets,” and promised That some day I would meet another heart That sings in perfect harmony with mine.

I thought mine was destined to sing alone But then I met you, and everything changed.

- Songbirds, @blephwrites

I often think falling in love is like being stabbed, for more than one reason. See, it is forced upon us without much choice. Plunged into the depths of our soul and we call the pain a blessing because at least something has reached us. Has touched us. At least we feel something. I often think falling in love is like being stabbed, for more than one reason. It is fast and violent, too quick for you to realize what is happening until you stagger back and realize what is really going on. You stare at the hilt jutting out of you, mesmerized, terrified. Because it hurts when it happens, but we are more scared of the pain that will come with the extraction of this thing killing us. We call the removal Heartbreak when really our heart was fractured as soon as we were hit, yet we only start to feel it when the blade that was keeping us together, filling the wound is taken back. And we choose the torture that is love every time Because we know we can either live with this ache or bleed out alone.

The Universe’s Sense of Humor

Can we just talk for a second about how Warner and Julliete (I refuse to call her Ella) being in love since forever makes Shatter Me even more heart breaking? Like Warner, this ruthless young dictator, suddenly has this seemingly unfound intense attraction to a lethal girl and he can't even fight it because every freaking molecule in his body his telling him he loves her. And he doesn't know what's happening and he dosent understand how he could be so "weak". And no matter how much he tries to protect her from his father he can't because his father knows from years of observing them, that no matter what, Aaron will be in love with her. And Julliete, unconsciously feeling the same way. But imagine all the trauma she had to go through to get that rooted soul mate bond instinct out of her. Then feeling like crap and overcome with a kind of guilt when she finally falls in love with the guy and everyone gives her crap for it and even she can't understand 100% why she did.

"You think Aaron fell in love with your friend of several months, a rebel girl named Juliette. You don’t know. You don’t know. You don’t know that Aaron has been in love with Ella for the better part of his entire life"

" The reason he had to keep wiping their memories was because it didn’t matter how many times he reset the story or remade the introductions— Aaron always fell in love with her. Every time"

Seeing the person you love asleep and admiring how peacefully beautiful they are is great, but have you ever seen them the opposite of asleep? Like awake, really awake, and focused and alive and in their element, to the point where they barely notice you, but you don’t care because holy shit they’re gorgeous

I fight no one but myslef.

Six Words #170

I will fight anyone but myself.

“Hey,” they look at me trying to draw my attention and I try, I really do, try and focus.

“Hey, you're going to be okay,” they lean in another inch and their voice is soft and I try and focus on that.

“You can do this,” they are only an inch or two away and I can feel the warmth of their breath as they whisper these words and I try to focus on that.

“Adam, look at me,” and I do, “when you're there,” I take an unsteady breath at the mere mention of some moment beyond this one. But their gaze is beseeching as they look up at me and I try to focus on that.

“Hey, no, listen, when you're there I want you to try and imagine a moment. A happy moment. Maybe something from your childhood. Maybe something from a good time with a friend. Maybe a summer walk. Maybe imagine being in the kitchen, preferably not flooding,” they smile meekly, “in the middle of the night. Imagine you and me with a cup of tea. And go to that place when you need to escape. To go somewhere else for a bit. Okay?” I nod. Only slightly. Because they are so close I can feel every word as much as I can hear it and I do not trust myself to speak.

“A happy place yeah? Where you felt good and safe and okay...” there gaze trails from my eyes down the rest of my face and up again and I focus on that.

“A happy moment, maybe even this one…” the hand behind my neck is guiding my head down and their lips are on mine. Soft and warm and we share a breath and it is as though they are reminding me to breathe. And even though I am nervous now it is a good nervous and when they pull back and look at me I am focused on that.

“Are you okay…” they ask slowly, warily.

“Yes,” I breath.

“Remember, you can always call me. It’ll be tricky but we’ll work it out. Okay? You ready?”

I don't know what to say. How to say I will never be ready. That I was not ready for any of this. I know I cannot stay here forever but just another moment. Another minute. Another millisecond.

Their hand is still on my neck and I find my hand trailing up theirs, resting on their upper arm

“Maybe,” I feel their warmth seeping out of their jacket and pay more attention this time. A happy moment, try to mentally photograph it, memorize every detail.

“Maybe just another one for the road,” I whisper.

Leaving France ~ Excerpt from A Woman’s World.