Sometimes love can’t shut up. It’s a bad habit that love can’t seem to break… not that it ever tried. Love always seems to talk at the worst possible times. Like when other much more deserving emotions wish to say their peace, and walk away. I swear there are times that love, if it was smarter, would save itself the ass-whuppin’, and just move along.
Sometimes love can’t shut up. It opens its mouth, not out of a selfish need to be heard, or to hear its own voice, but because love feels pain in the presence of another in pain. And because love hurts when it feels pain in another, love risks… love dares. Which may make love stupid, but love doesn’t care.
Sometimes love can’t shut up. And it is mysteriously rewarded for its foolishness. With silliness, and laughter, and sentences finished by another… and broken phrases that end in breathless sighs. In these times, love loses its ability to remember anything but the moment, and the color of the eyes before it… and the hope of another day just like this one, because love looks for its own in the return of love.
Sometimes love can’t shut up. Because love knows that if it does, it will disappear. And while love may be bold and brave, and stupid and silly, and many things besides… love knows its own end. Love knows the fear of becoming the one thing that love must not be… alone. Because no matter how much love knows it should be complete within itself, love also knows that without the chance to give itself away, love dies.
Sometimes love can’t shut up. If only for the reason that love knows it is right, and would rather say something than nothing, when saying nothing lets wrong go on. Even if what love says falls on deaf ears. Because love believes that even deaf ears may one day hear. And if deaf ears can hear, then one day… dead hearts can beat.