The 25 Greatest Quotes About Love

This helped remind me of how blessed I am to be with my boyfriend and how blessed I am to have the people around me that I do. It is amazing how in tune you are with the blessings in your life when you are healthy.

Thought Catalog

Love is real, real is love. John Lennon
Love is a friendship set to music. Joseph Campbell
The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers. Thich Nhat Hanh
Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within. James Baldwin
Love is now, is always. All that is missing is the coup de grâce — which is called passion. Clarice Lispector
when you love someone / you are scared of getting hurt / and you will get hurt Brandon Scott Gorrell
And now we’re apart and you’re just some stranger who knows all my secrets and all my family members and all my quirks and flaws and it doesn’t make sense. Gaby Dunn
He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But…

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Challenge: #OperationBeautiful

Just a Cross & a Dream

Breathe in and breathe out she reminds herself as his hands begin to wander. Up and down his strokes may go, but she can’t move an inch. Her breath is caught up in her throat as though turned solid, choking her, silencing her once strong and boisterous voice. It sits in here esophagus on her vocal chords, pressing, straining them, making her feel the pressure of the unspoken words, the tongue already bitten, the shame and guilt being forced down.

There are shackles on her wrists and her ankles, though he does not see them. He sees her body for only what he wants it to be, that of a woman’s; the curves, the smooth and soft skin- motionless- his. Though he whispers words of encouragement, of a coaxing manner, they slip off his tongue like fire, flames dancing on her skin, singeing just enough to leave a scar below the surface, one that he won’t care to see, one that he can’t feel. His breath in her ear feels like ice freezing over her insides once again freezing her heart that had just started thawing back out. It has grown solid over time, filled with scars and pain that only coldness can numb, and a blizzard he provides. Her stomach churns as the arctic chill reaches it, bringing everything to a hault. Years of this corpse pose, years of these shackles, she has found herself here before, only now the tears won’t fall.

Her eyes are closed, lest he see the deep wells of emptiness and blacked out memories yet somehow his touch begins to fade. All at once she is in another place and is no longer there lying next to him. She begins to grow warm and is no longer lying down, she is standing. Her feet are planted strong on what feels like warm grass, encompassing her heels, mud squishing between her toes. She refuses to open her eyes, too afraid of it being a cruel joke her mind has dreamed up for her. Slowly, she lifts her arms, stretching her fingers, wiggling them, swaying her arms back and forth, cautious not to hit anything but anxious in the newly found space. She digs her toes deeper in the mud and begins to twist back and forth with her head leaned up facing what feels like a late spring or early summer sun. The light dances in her hair and across the freckles on her face, careful not to burn but to caress softly as if knowing what she’s been through.

Slowly music starts to play and she can feel her throat start to open and can hear a melody start to come out. She is singing again and her feet begin moving along to the beat as if never frozen in place, never shackled together. The beat in her chest no longer feels like a cage, but the beat of a drug going along with the music. Everything is falling is place as she’s dancing along, eyes still closed moving and swaying, her body ebbing and flowing, no pain and no hurt, for she feels free.

But she begins to stumble and goes to catch herself and opens her eyes and there she is, in her bed. She catches her breath as if it were being held captive inside of her chest, buried deep like a treasure. Eyes wide, in search of anything, everything, locked open in fear. Palms sweating, gripping the covers for protection as though it were the only thing safe in the room. No one beside her. She lets out a breath. No one behind her, she releases one hand. No one in front of her, just a few picture frames stocked to the brim, filled with new memories, ones to replace the old. On the other wall a cross, a new slate that was given to her. She drops the covers and looks at her hands, runs them along her arms, traces the scars of days past and weeps with joy knowing it was just a dream. She is safe, she is free, she is whole, she is clean.