There exists a kind of love that is so limitless, it could fit the entire expanse of the cosmos in its
palms.
the kind that doesn't know how to hold itself back or take a pit stop, the kind to consume every last bit of
you, almost like some black hole that will perhaps never meet your eye, but still make you
vanish as though it doesn't mean a thing.
and i know you must be wondering — why am i talking of love and the universe in the same breath, but you see, that's exactly the kind of love that you had brimmed my life with. your voice through the phone sounding like a celebratory meteor shower, calming me with its blinding lights from what seemed like a thousand shooting stars.
your soft touch that could make me forget the earth and dream of magical things hanging in the sky; your celestial kind of love that carried around a realm of its own, always prepared to collapse the notion of space and time for me in a mere heartbeat.
but now that you're gone, leaving me in this ugly, unceasing void, i can't help but question —
what good does this kind of love really do to people? how much of us is it allowed to take away when it must
finally depart?
and what in fucking heaven am i supposed to do with all these numbing feelings orbiting around me?
because on dark nights like these, i still find myself peeking out of my window to catch a glimpse of the moon, knowing that from somewhere not very far from me, you are looking at it too. and then, your kind of love crash-lands on my heart yet again, pulling me with its unforgiving gravity, as i remind myself to resist it, too shaken by the possibility of you mouthing a name that no longer sounds like mine.