Thursday, 15 January 2015

To love her is to die.



When I made up my mind to write, I was thinking of writing a Valentines Day Poem but it turned out to be a sad monologue. This is what I wrote - 



Have you ever ran into someone you love whom you know you should not?  You are spel bound by the entire female charisma they have. Yet you pretend to be non-chalant for all the world to see. You tell yourself it is just infatuation and it would be alright. But in your heart of hearts, you know you are wrong. You can be non impassive on the outside, but not inside. You are that hard coconut that if penetrated, would be soft enough to break to pieces. Yet you wish, the liquid inside goes dry and you are alike on both sides. You might ignore them, or attend them less, but all your heart yearns is to break your own virtual shackles and be with them.
There are times they're so close to you that you get real serious you might blurt out your feelings. When you do, you make it appear one joke, and the very jocular yourself mocks the serious yourself. You portray yourself as one jolly-jocular-I-was-just-kidding-guy. They may not sense it, nor do your own senses, for your own numbness addles your brains and all you want is to run away. But then again, they're in your head wherever you go.
They do open up their heart. You want to console them, but you are cautious to stay as distant as possible; for you are afraid when you console them and tell them how much you care about them, they might still underestimate it. You want to say every possible thing to soothe them, but these daily comforts are so clich├ęd, you chuck it.
And what if they have feelings for someone else? What if you are their back up friend, the one with dry shoulders for their wet eyes? You know, even if your shoulders are dry, that thing in your rib cage isn't when they press their head against it. It cries with vigour more than the amplitude of your heartbeats, for even if your heart races it is nothing compared to the breaking dam of feelings. The worst part of it is when you know  they are heading towards a heartbreak but you don’t want to point it out lest they instead point out your jealousy. And if they do, would they feel for you? Would they notice your sullen eyes for the first time? And when they do, wont you already be heartless to them as their comeuppance? Would you be that willing, after all this time? Is that possible, or your foresight is playing along? Maybe, just maybe, life is being a bitch.
So you just say you are taken and do all that it takes to keep your equanimity a few seconds long enough just to burst into tears after they are gone, or rather, you have walked away. You are vaguely aware how your pride and prejudice has taken toll over you but you are not strong enugh to stop crying. You don’t become heartless, you just use your heartless.

To love them is to die, everyday.

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