When I was younger my sister asked me what was love.
I told her it is when you care about someone a lot.
This definition is result of my innocence, of my age.
I did not know when I told her that love would be the heart-wrenching terribly beautiful story that it is.
I didn't know that you would give your all to someone who would just walk out the door.
That you could picture your life with them as a main character... just to have them find someone else.
I could not tell my sister that your heart will drop into your stomach when you think they might be gone.
That you might need constant reassurance for days to come, as that evil thought still clouds your mind.
I couldn't tell my sister that sometimes it is a one way street. That sometimes you will do all the loving.
I couldn't tell my sister that the pain of lost love, will haunt your next love. That it is a break that will never mend.
I couldn't tell my sister that your heart still drops when you think of them.
My sister didn't know that your happiness may be set aside, and you'll look out for someone else.
Though, I could tell her now.
I could tell her how you feel you are floating on air and how each day just seems better.
How your jaw hurts from smiling and your stomach from laughing.
How the happiness you feel with another, is indescribable.
I could tell her how life seems easy and the future looks bright.
I could tell my sister how you long to form memories and want to create a world.
But,
what I couldn't tell my sister,
is how amazing it felt to hold your hand.