Image by ____federico____ via Flickr
Falling in love is like having your skin stripped off, so you feel everything many times more intensely. Not always in a good way.
I had believed that at my age, after at least ten years of no love, that my skin had grown over, a hard, horny plate which no sensation could penetrate. Then you came, and picked the scab right off the wound, then held a flame to it. I’m feeling now, all right.
Love is pain, and melancholy is the longing to have the wound stripped bare.
