60 Seconds.

This is all it takes to fall in love.

It is all it takes to fall out of love.

It is all it takes to forget about love.

And it is all it takes to remember love.

60 Seconds.

Tick tock.

Time stands still;

I stand in the midst of frenzied activity,

In wonder of the picture that disarms me.

Tick tock.

My minutes expand;

The seconds magnified into milliseconds,

Enlarging the imperfection that had mesmerized me.

❀~❀~❀

People often say that it is the first love that never quite goes away from your memory - and heart. True - to a certain extent. It is not all the first loves that dominates your subconscious and resurface time and again like a lost innocence that reminds you of the sweet youth that could never be.

First Love becomes a true noun in its own right, valourized, glorified, worshipped and housed in a protected shrine - bright with figurative incense or dark with self imposed shadows of pain - when it is a love that first bestows you with the very first fatal kiss of death. The very first time you experience that heartache that kills you and renders your heart a limp muscle, only alive as to dutifully pump oxygenated blood in your body, and wrenching in that seemingly perpetual twisted pleasure of pain, which merely serves to remind you that your flesh and blood are still technically warm and living, even though you know all too well that your heart is already dead on the inside.

This is our true First Love.

A First Love made up of many a 60-seconds.