There is a special kind of magic that wraps around old love. Love that somehow didn’t follow it’s full path, its full potential. There are those we remember with fondness and those we let slip past memory entirely. But there is a love that imprints. It forms a shape that the heart wraps around and says ‘this is love’.
Every love is measured against that shape whether we like it or not. Because it is the imprint. The first deep recognition.