And, the worst part of it all, you’ll still love them. You will love them with every single vein that flows below your skin scarred by their touch. You will continue to breathe hoping they’ll embrace your cold body, but you know it too, they won’t. Your chocolate coloured eyes saw them vanish like smoke fading into air. Your kohl lined eyes saw them disappear like autumn leaves falling. Oh, how your teary vision saw them fade away, just like the water fades away the paint. The neurons of your brain will be left dazed by the glitter of their magnificent sly disappearance. The weight of your tears will hold you down until you feel suffocated and out of breath. The humongous weight of the false vows will keep you strangled to the cold, hard ground. Screaming, crying won’t help you anymore. The ringing voices of the late night conversations will haunt you till your mind gives in. It’ll be like pulling out a cruise liner from the stormy sea with a weak rope, impossible. Or at least it’ll seem. Their absence, will prick you like a million needles. That grey hoodie that you kept from the first date, will burn in the back of your closet, the flames will remind you of their cologne. And, the worst, you’ll feel the miserable pain but sans physical and visible bruises. You’ll feel your mind go numb, your heart ache, lumps in your throat and yet you won’t be diagnosed with a medical term. This, my friend, is the minor pain of a heart-break. Like your heart beat that holds you together, yet is invisible, this heartache will rip you apart, yet, it’ll stay hidden behind the veil of a minor inconvenience. It’ll catch you every time you’ll get ahead of it. It’ll find you even in the farthest corners of your safe and happy woodland of thoughts. Poor thing, this feeling will delude your senses faster than any bottle of alcohol. This emptiness will grope the slightest strand of love in your shadow. The winter of your heartsick misery will surpass your joys of wonderful summery days by the beach. This feeling of loving someone and then being dropped like a hot potato, will turn your nights into horror lands. Yet, visit to this miserable place is inevitable. Their absence will encompass your entire existence. And, the worst, to the world, you’ll have to put up a brave front. Because, in the end you’re 21 and he was just another boy. You’ll have to put up a facade because at 17 nobody can taste love so deep. In the end, you’ll learn to wear yet another mask. This, well, this will be just another story behind the mask you’ll put up
The boy who left me without an explanation.
Your absence hurts me. It has drained me physically and emotionally and mentally. In between hours and minutes, my mind keeps going back to your memories. I did everything I could to let go. I’ve talked about you over and over again, to try to get you out of my system. It doesn’t help. I still miss you when I’m listening to James Arthur. I still miss you when I’m sitting in the backseat of the cab. I miss you so much that it annoys me. I saw this coming, you know. You loved hopping from one heart to another. But I just thought, you’ll halt this time. Oh, how naive of me to trust a bee. I told myself to never expect much from you. But I did. I restrained myself from loving you. But the fool I am, I did love you. I fell for you hesitantly and unwilling. I fell for you unexpectedly and unreasonably. It’s sad you lived up to your reputation. It’s so unexpected that you turned out exactly like the kind I hated. I saw a different version every time we met. Yet, I couldn’t be enough for any one of those. I saw a different man every time I forgave the last one. How I wish I had listened to my brain. How I wish I had ignored your text at midnight. How I just wish I hadn’t made you my world. It’s bizarre how I’ve spent nights missing you and you don’t even care. I’m pretty sure you’ve forgotten me, like I never happened to you. Honey, I’ll take your share of blame. You just did what you do best. Skipping to the part where you make them believe
in your lies and then swish past. I should have known, you don’t know how to love. I should’ve known, you’re just a pathetic liar. A man just made up of deceit. I should’ve known treachery runs in your veins, not blood. Oh, I should’ve seen it coming.
You weren’t even man enough to tell me why you left me. You left me hanging on a cliff. Hanging onto all your meaningless words. From hours and hours of promises to simply disappearing on me, I hope you have a reasonable explanation for it. I remember you asked me why I had commitment issues. It’s so ironic how your answer was just a mirror away. I opened my well bolted iron doors for you, and you just sealed me in again. You didn’t have to pretend to love in the first place. You didn’t have to paint me a blue sky if you had to turn it to rain. Trust me, you didn’t have to walk into my picture, if your name was just supposed to appear as a cameo.
You didn’t even give me a chance to reason out. You didn’t even tell me what went wrong. You just left in the middle of my sentence. In the middle of everything. You just fucking vanished. I mean you just disappeared, like I never felt the taste of your words. I don’t wanna take the high road this time, you know. I hope this piece of writing pierces your conscience and goes straight to your heart. I hope this makes you uncomfortable. I really hope after reading this you have an uneasy night. I hope this piece keeps you up at night thinking about all the hearts you carried out on your palm,and then dropped them callously. Some nights I’m glad that you left me, that it ended before permanent damage occurred. But some starry evenings, I cry my heart out because of the slight scars. I don’t wanna wish you luck for your future endeavors. You weren’t mature enough few days back. I’m not adult enough to let it go now. I guess, we’re finally even.
The one who thought you’d changed.
I bruised my knee once. I broke my leg once.But then I got my heart broken by someone who claimed to love me . Trust me, nothing ever pained me so much, not even the doctor’s syringe. It was like someone pushed me from cloud nine. Shut the doors of my castle on my face. He used my favorite colors to paint the rosy picture. He used blues of my insecurities, red shades of my subdued love, a little of grey here and there for the times I loved to stay quiet ,and a little of black. Black was his choice, not mine. the piece turned out to be a masterpiece before it caught fire.
I still remember laughing when he promised me things I knew were hollow. He did assure me, did promise to not become the kind I hate. But weeks into “us”, he’s become exactly like the ones we once laughed at it. I can’t recognize his touch anymore, his voice feels so plain now. The inside of his head doesn’t feel like home anymore. His grey sweater fails to bewitch me. I keep going back to the time he first said those words. I keep going back because this man in front of me is a stranger with memories. This man on the other side of the phone doesn’t know me well. This man, well, this man is not the one i used to wake up next to. He says I’m dramatic. He’s right, I’m overly dramatic but that’s because I can see what people have up their sleeves. And what I see here is definitely not love. What surprises me is how can I be shocked to see him become what he is? I knew him all too well. I walked into it, knowing well his reputation. So I guess, it’s stupid to put the blame on you. Let’s split? I’ll take home my burden of letting you in again and again and again. I’ll carry home the times I should have walked away but decided to stay. Pack a bag and leave this time for sure, I swear. But why don’t you try asking me to stay once? It’s the least you can do after your hollow deep lies. I can finally see why you used black. It’s the color you’re made of, isn’t it? This one color that never mixes with others, instead breaks them and walks over their personality. I’ll just say, it’s okay. Seasons change, the sun goes down and the stars continue to shine. Days passed and so easily, your love changed. Oh no, wait, you found out I was plain, simple boring. It took us three years, a month long relationship and just one meet to realise we weren’t meant for each other. What’s the worst? I sob for you, I’m feeling miserable and you don’t even care. You sleep peacefully, it doesn’t bother you at all. Tears roll down my face, not yours. I feel helpless and alone, not you. It’s good to see how you’re working so hard to make our “thing” work. Just a quick word of advice before I say fuck you and your texts, never say I love you to someone if you have to ghost on them, it really doesn’t strengthen your stand.
People aren’t like a movie. You can’t replay your favourite person when you’re upset, you can’t go back to them when you’re feeling blue. You can never guess their end, never know what’s up their sleeves. They don’t come with genres. You cannot walk down the aisle of the “people library” and pick one to rent. They are unexpected paradoxes of your thoughts. You can’t find online analysis for their behaviour, you have to believe what they say. They don’t explain themselves with subtitles, summaries or movie posters. People, don’t stay with you forever, in your rack for times to come. You can’t really expect them to be there for you when it starts to drizzle . No, people are not like the movies. They are like different genres blended with colorful hues of life,incompatible.
Made up of different lines of your favourite character, with backgrounds of your most liked movie. No, they aren’t only comic or romantic. They aren’t purely fictional or a biopic. People, oh the ones we love, are built of stories greater than the 70mm celluloid, with beats of their own. Not every story is our favourite, not every person clicks, but we still watch those, at least once. Thank heavens, people aren’t like the movies, with drastic and dramatic ending. People, well, you can write your ending with them. My personal favourite is the movie called People, it’s a complex genre and talks about a myriad of emotions. Layers of thoughts and desires and ideas. It’s a must watch, you know. Not everyone is a 10/10 but they are an experience.
We met halfway through our miseries
Dancing drunk under the night sky
You can name your favorite star, I already did mine
I know nothing makes sense right now
But let it be like this
Senseless and in love
Tipsy and stuttering
Both of us blur out
Lying down under the lamp post
Let me just be myself, for the night
Put down my masks and take away your facades
Let me be myself for a little while
We can roll out our secrets
I swear I’ll keep them safe or maybe not
But just talk and intoxicate me with your words
I can already feel your body heating up
It isn’t alcohol, it’s not what we’ve been smoking.
Heated up from our love that flows in my veins
I can feel the grass underneath my elbow
The light illuminating the scars on your soul
You know, I like those demons you hide
The stories you tell me about the scars
I’ve memorised them all
I can feel the alcohol slip out of my system
But I still feel faded, blurred on this feeling
I could tell you a hundred things I loathe
I would spend every night counting the stars with you
But you don’t need forever
You never asked for infinities
You loved here and now
Always looked for the present
Let me just say before the present runs out
Before it becomes yet another chance I had
Just before this present becomes a resentful past
Or should I just keep quiet?
Let you smoke the circles
Let all the 2am thoughts be casual
Away from the chaos of the cliched
Distant from another ‘friends turned lovers’
The cigarette butt on your lower lip sits so ignorantly at my place
It’s still burning, brighter than the passions I hide
But, ugh, this is too cliched
I’m not supposed to fall for you
We had a deal.
Still, I envy the cigarette stick that gets to be so close to you
I know you’re blowing up your anger with the smoke rings
I’ve been quiet for a long time now
You haven’t spoken either
that lucky cigarette keeps you busy
But this feels great you know
This silence at 3 in the night
I can hear your thoughts, I can hear your distant dreams
The words that float in the air, unable to become sentences
I guess,I just had my forever in your present.
Falling for you wasn’t that bad you know ? I mean obviously we didn’t end up together. Obviously we aren’t the new Augustus and Hazel but at least you inspired me to become a person with words. What’s your inspiration they ask . I mostly talk about anything except you, I’m too selfish to make you a great part of my life now that you’re gone. “Your words feel so real” they often tell me. I wish I could show them what we had. Darling, mere paper isn’t enough to represent the fire we had. My pen is too weak to capture our moments. They weren’t the best, but they were “ours”. I’ve realised no matter how much people pretend, they have a soft corner for broken hearts. They still prefer incomplete love stories over a happily ever after. Mine, well, they are full of heart breaks, you see. It’s fictional, I announce to the world. Again, because I don’t wanna name the soul that wounded my heart. Bleed your heartbreaks through words, I repeat to my friends. Lately, I found out that my friends preferred to read a character’s half told, heartsick story than to hear my own. So be it. There’s not much difference between the girl who lives in my words and me, except her story ends with a definite full stop. Mine ends in the middle of a sentence. That’s from where I completed hers. So, my preface someday might read your name. When I’m old enough to let it go and mature enough to give you your due credit. It’s so ironic how I preach about existence of love out there, tell them to hold onto their hopes. But we live in a world made up of ironies. We live in a castle of false assumptions. So let this be yet another one. Recently, I’ve started enjoying myself. Sadistic pleasure, you see. Of people who take pride in their partners and accidental “destined” meetings. It’s not long before they become a part of my group. My group of cynics and non believers. Not everyone is as cynical as I am. Not everyone is so dramatic as I am. But to be honest, not everyone felt something so deep , as I did . I know my words and stories become repetitive. They are. I’m not denying that fact. But you can’t blame me for that. Writing expresses your inner emotions, I read this line online. It does. For my writing, expresses the words I can’t speak from my mouth. So this girl,from my pages does. But you know, you’re lucky. Words have immortalised you.
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