Rebecca Serle, When You Were Mine


Rebecca Serle, When You Were Mine

"I have this fantasy where I am slow dancing in a dimly lit kitchen with the last time you liked yourself."

Love isn’t just the sound of the birds singing in the mornings,
It’s equally the way you squeeze my hand as you see a tiny bird lifeless at the side of the road.
It’s not being made breakfast in bed on cosy Sunday mornings,
As much as it’s the crumpets that are still cold in the middle but you’re too polite to say so.
It’s part and parcel of all things.

Love can be pretty crap.
Really it can be, and not in regards to it being something that should be avoided.
Dear lord it’s incredible,
It makes you want to scream with pride,
But equally burst with pain,
When the words just won’t leave your mouth,
When you aren’t given the chance to explain,
When you think you’re doing the right thing,
But god, it’s the complete opposite.

It’s difficult,

But love is something that if it’s true, it shows.
You could be fighting and arguing so much it seems like it may never end.
But love is that tingle in your chest when, even if they’re shouting, never goes away.
The serious conversations that are broken with side glances and funny faces.

Everything is made up of it.
Man, it’s annoying as hell,
But at the same time, makes it the best feeling imaginable.

I was asked to write an unconventional love letter, and I don’t think I’ve done so well, but I’m sorry.

We’re both hurting, we both have red eyes and tear stained cheeks,
I’m not romanticising pain, the opposite.
It’s the worst.
To not know what to say to your sweetheart when you need to most.
Wanting to run a mile and jump into the sea but also curl up beside them,
It’s a horrible in between,
I’m not questioning my love.
Just my judgement.

I can’t judge you sometimes,
It seems like your so distant,
But every single time we feel this way,
We are drawn back,
That’s love, that’s all I care about.

So that’s it I guess.
Dude, you’re crazy as hell sometimes,
But I’d never change that.

Just don’t forget.
We may be crazy and we may be lost. But we’re lost together and I hope that’s enough for you, Because that’s plenty for me.

An unconventional love letter?
HL (helloohannah)
"I have this fantasy where I am slow dancing in a dimly lit kitchen with the last time you liked yourself."