Hey there. This came into my head so I figured I'd put it down. There are no names and this is not actually related to Charmed, but these are Phoebe's thoughts on love, and love with Cole.
The title comes from the song of the same name by The Blood Brothers – good song, good band.
Love rhymes with hideous car wreck
When I was a little girl, my sisters used to tell me stories. In these stories there was always a princess, who always had some kind of childhood trauma – think Cinderella and her evil step-sisters, Rapunzel and that whole tower thing, Snow White and the wicked witch (though if you ask me, I would've been wary of the dwarves). But, no matter what shit life handed them, they were always rescued by a brave, charming, unbelievably handsome prince, more often than not on a white horse.
Why is it always a white horse? Did the guy selling them run out of the other colours? Or was there a special deal on the white ones? I guess a prince riding up on a brown horse doesn't have quite the same heroic ring to it. Bit discriminatory to horses that aren't white.
I've gone off the subject a little bit. So, anyway, in these fairy stories, the princess and the prince fell in love and lived happily ever after. Their love was so pure, and good, and innocent – so invincible. He was beautiful and she was beautiful, and everything they touched was beautiful, and there were deer and birds singing and…
Okay, so I'm getting a little carried away. You get the general idea. Life was good – perfect – for our poor maiden and her prince charming. And, thanks to these stories, that's what I thought love was like for, well, the majority of my life so far.
I spent years trying to find that kind of love, years searching and never finding, being shot down and picking myself back up, over and over again. But through it all, through all the failed relationships, I never stopped believing that I could find fairy tale love, if only I could find the right person.
Finally – I did. I found the right guy. He was handsome, charming, brave, and he made me feel special, loved…complete. But this love wasn't pure, or good, or innocent. And I couldn't understand why it felt so right, when clearly it was the opposite of what it was supposed to be.
But now I understand. Love isn't all flowers and roses and that harlequin bullshit. This, here, right now, this is love. Love is brutal and it's cruel and it will tear you apart inside, ripping you to shreds without making a mark.
And it's the greatest feeling I've ever known.
Please review and check out my other stories – Little Women and The Next Generation