Most love is a temporary experience,
even if the feeling itself is everlasting. Sometimes it’s harder to accept a once fiery love being reduced to a slow, phlegmatic death.
No hatred.
No lying.
No glass breaking
or doors hanging off hinges.
For no noteworthy reason,
wide-open skies become low-hanging ceilings. We bump up against it,
wondering what’s stopping us from growing as planned.
You’re not my person.
And I’m not your person.
Anymore.
If ever I’m asked about you, I’ll say we were just two people whose intentions outweighed our abilities.
What was once promising
and bursting at the seams,
now lies deflated at our feet.
Sometimes the best thing we can do for each other is what’s painful.
Over time, harsh truths lose their sting.
The only thing more obvious than loving the person you see forever in
is leaving them the second you no longer do.
I’ve finally reached the point in life where I know believing in something doesn’t make it true.
Being open to love and life is as much about letting go and setting things free,
as it is about attracting them.
Space is made in absence.
And love finds its way.
J. Raymond
"Low Hanging Ceilings"

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