pixelated.me

It made me weep. quietly. for a few seconds. mostly because i felt like it. mostly because at the end of the book i realized that without a doubt you only fall in love once. The tough textured skin, of where the scars she inflicted on me are, will never be soft again. Those scars that i stubbornly, masochistically tore open so many times over the course of a year. Man!, I must have torn them open once for every time she dove into her own debauchery. For every time i read about it.
Well that skin...that tissue...tougher and wiser for wear will never be as untouched, and somehow the next woman who loves me will run her hands over their weathered surface and grin the quiet grin of someone who carries her own scars and knows. She'll have to, it will be only way she can love me.

for the moment though i wonder if in the years that this novel sat on my book shelf, if in the year that that bookshelf was our bookshelf, or in the months that my book shelf was with you, if in that time you ever read it or if i ever told you how much the book moved me as a naive 16 year old romantic?