I love writing prompts. It gives me focus. It lets my mind find something to ponder, to wander over.
Love is messy. But sometimes it is the best kind of messiness. Sharing yourself with someone, oozing all over them.
Maybe it is the messiness of sweat and skin and physical contact, but that isn’t always the messiest pieces, is it.
When you connect with someone in that way and join your minds together, not just your bodies. When you take pieces of yourself to give to them and sometimes they don’t give them back. Sometimes the puzzle pieces fit together so neatly you think, how were these ever a part?
But sometimes you force them in place, and that is where it is real and messy. It can still create a complete picture, and sometimes there is beauty in the cracks. Sometimes you create a mosaic, and that is just as much of a work of art. An impressionist painting is no less beautiful in its fuzziness.
It is also messy in the way two people come together. Reaching for that connection. Your body instinctively knowing where it belongs but never making it there. The push and pull you have together. The chase that never ends. No one is ever caught.
But the messiness is what makes you feel. It lets you know you’re alive. It is worth every moment.
