love is like a bruise on the hip.

by abillionbeautifulbutterflies

It’s like when you are dancing and someone starts dancing with you, and they’re rough and maybe a little inebriated- and maybe you’re a little inebriated- or just new at dancing- but you go for it full force and it is fun and thrilling and you want it to last forever but then the two of you go crashing into the nearby table and you smash your hip hard- or maybe your partner just drops you on the floor cause they had no idea what they were doing either and when you are done wincing over the pain and open your eyes, they are gone- probably cause they are embarrassed or perhaps they got tired of dancing- maybe they’re trying out biking- who knows- they’ve disappeared and all that is left of that magical moment is the fabulous memory and a gargantuan bruise on your hip. And that shit was fun and so you practice some more- get a little less sloppy, and the bruise heals up, mostly- but not completely- ever- you walk around with that soft spot forever and sometimes, a new special someone will poke you right there, on that tender spot and you will wince and remember from whence it came and you will steady yourself to brace the clumsy feeling of learning a new dance, because not dancing, is not an option.

 

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