“Because sometimes, you have to question how much the world really knows, sweetie.
They’ll keep telling you, love is the strongest feeling in the world.
They’ll keep whispering it into your young nubile ears till the words became your earrings and eardrums and you can hear them echo when you hold your head too close to the broken seashells.
But it’s true, is it, sweetie?
Love is the most fragile thing you can hold in your heart, it melts at the touch of warm hands, it runs through your fingers like the water that rushes away faster when dead goldfish are gasping in death at the cup of your palms.
Love is fragile because it happens at coffee shops or barber quartets, and suddenly your thoughts aren’t yours anymore, they have been whisked away like some toads are, when hurricane strike cities at 200 kilometres per hour.
Love is fragile because you can never tell someone you love them, even when you know you are sleeping on heartbreaks every night and in your dream, her hands are the only things you see as you fall of that cliff.
Love is fragile because you can’t tell her, because if you did, she might not love you back, and it’s better to hurt but not know, than to know and hurt all the same.
Love is fragile because it is afraid to walk through the fire.
It is afraid of pulling up flames beneath a hostel window on the third floor and filling the room with smoke hoping someone looks up at the curdling fumes and realises they have spelt your helplessness without them all along.
Love is fragile because it can happen to you anytime, like a shark attack, or an email scam, because you could be ordering patties and cola one moment, and the next you can’t walk a step without hearing her say,
yes, yes I’ll walk with you.
Love isn’t strong or heroic, sweetie, it is your hands in someone else’s, your eyes under someone’s chin.
When you have it, you’ll know.”
Artwork by Trash Riot.