The price of love

“Loving another person is a wonderful thing, and if that love is sincere, no one ends up tossed into a labyrinth. You have to have more faith in yourself.” (Norvegian Wood – Haruki Murakami)

I wish someday you could find a home where I live. You would come back, with all your luggage and stay. You would be tired of these countries, more exotic, more exciting than the one of you and me. You would find your way back to us. Your home would be with me or not, but the dust and the sensation of freedom from all of your trips, you could always keep them. Your wings would be forever yours and you could always walk away again. When boredom catches up with you and your wings needs to fly. In the meantime, I would still welcome you to my place, to my heart. We would still walk through our Old Town, hand in hand. This energetic way of yours when holding my hands. We would still chill out on the couch and listen to some music. This poetic way of yours when looking at me in music. We would still kiss all nights. This passionate way of yours when kissing me. You would rest before a new trip. You would find your way out once you had given me all you had.

I love you because you could never be kept in one place, just for me. I love you because exactly I could only see you with wings and dust. It is the kind of love which could not see you daily in our home. For that kiss to be forever passionate, for that gaze to be forever intense, for that embrace to be forever warm, I need to set you free. I would stay right in front of the porch, seeing you walking away, waiting for you to come back. My whole life. Not once, my love has changed. Not once, you have changed. Your body and soul would be the incarnation of freedom, accessible to me every once in a while, but in the most powerful and exquisite way. It is the price that I accept to pay. I would not prefer to love you another way.

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