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What It Feels like to Love You

My Love Story

By Taylor MullinsPublished 6 years ago 5 min read
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My love and I 

So very frequently I think an immense amount about death. Focusing heavily on the concept that is the afterlife. Now, some say there’s a Heaven and a Hell, but can anyone define those places really? Some get off on the feeling of pain, so wouldn’t a world full of supposed peace be their own personal Hell instead of a Heaven? Besides religious practices that teach you of an afterlife that is believed by many to be shared amongst us all, some believe that we just end. Everything we were is gone and that we’ll never be anything else; that our souls decompose and disappear along with our bodies. But what if none of them are right at all?

So everyone has their own view of what a Heaven is. Some picture endless puppies, or pizza, or naps. I like to think however, that the way you are treated in the afterlife, is the way you treated others on Earth. Now, it was foolish of you to think that a poem of mine wouldn’t turn into a writing of love. I feel it deeply. It’s all I feel actually. The person I feel it for is my muse. The deep love I feel for them fuels my creativity and both run through my veins like a strong dose of heroin. I’m high off of art, creativity, poetry, love. God, I’m high off love. I’m on an endless trip. I’m seeing galaxies in his eyes and I could swear electricity exits his fingertips when they trace my skin. And a fucking meteor shoots into my mouth when his lips touch mine. But I only see it. No one else. I’m not sure if he does. However, he argues that he loves me more. If that’s the case, I long to feel his trip. Maybe his trip is my Heaven.

Maybe that’s what I’m waiting patiently, yet desperately for. I want to go there. I beg to be free of the corruption and hate this world has to offer. But sometimes at 2:08 AM, when my thoughts are messy and I can’t focus, I think to myself, “What if they’re right? What if this is all there is? What if after my time on Earth, there’s nothing? And I never hold him again? What if my trip ends?” I have a love/hate relationship with these thoughts. I hate them because it means that after my numbered days are gone, so is he. And the thought of him gone is a pain that burns me to the highest extreme. I get third degree burns when he’s gone for work, and not in my arms. But if he was ever gone forever, I’d be melted and my bones would be charred. My soul would be flooded with ash and breathing, living, anything, would no longer be a possibility. I’m sometimes grateful that I feel things so deeply, and the trait was never noticed until I knew I was in love. It makes you really take a step back and realize what’s truly important in this world. I love the thought of the days being numbered because somehow, the feeling of love that I have gets deeper and deeper and the trip escalates. For me, it was never falling in love, it was flying. I was free. I was triumphant. I found that man that everyone said to wait for. He got out of that tree he was stuck in and he finally stopped pushing the door and decided to give it a pull. He had found his way to me at the perfect moment and I could never have been more grateful. We’ve only been together a short while, but I’ve never felt so sure. I’m so alive. I’m thriving with love. It’s all I feel. Everything is new due to the feeling. Colors are brighter and new and I’ve never seen them in this light before. My bed where I’m sleeping cozier that I ever have is the softest it’s ever been. I’m absolutely sure that we were just dust in the universe separated by the Big Bang. We found our way back to each other and the universe itself is rejoicing. And I know that it won’t let us be apart again. Billions of years of time and space. Different lives as dinosaurs and cavemen and our past generations of humans in the times marked AD and it finally happened. We had found each other. It was a confusing process though. Played out as a basic love story with a few bumps in the road, but once it began. The world rejoiced. You know those days in the middle of the winter where it’s just randomly 80 degrees in the midst of below freezing temperatures and no one knows why? The last day like that I experienced, I knew why. Maybe at that moment, I didn’t. But I do now. That was our first official day of being together. My bashfulness refused attention from the public at that moment, but it didn’t stop him from brushing his lips across my cheek when he noticed an absence of looks. It was fresh air. Even better than the weather.

I feel love. I feel it so deep. I’m drowning in the freshest air. I know what I feel and what I give others, and the only way I’ll receive what I give in my afterlife is if he’s there. So I’m not worried. My love will be there. No one has any ability that is even remotely close to give me the love that I’ve given. I’ll continue to be a responsibility flooded human here on Earth, but I’ll never stop daydreaming and thinking about the days when our souls are intertwined for eternity.

love
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