Can you love someone but not really like them?

It pains all the same knowing you no longer have what you once had. But it’s liberating to know it’s no one’s fault. It isn’t theirs and supposedly not yours. We could love someone for million reasons and not really like them for another million. You could love them for what they have achieved, for how pleasant they look or the qualities they possess but not really like them for how they make you feel. The way she gossip, the way she dominates, the way he keep dodging meaningful conversations or the way he whispers sweet nothings when he wants something from you.

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‘An agony prolong…’

It’s been so long
Since I felt this way.
Like a stolen first kiss
On a busy Monday

The Song you sent
As it happened out of blue
I play on repeat
For it reminds me of you

If I say I’m madly in love with you, you’d know I’m lying.

Darling I lied to you, every time I said you were the best thing that has ever happened to me. I lied to you, nodding my head, when you asked me if I was happy with you. I lied to you, when I said I understand all the reasons when you didn’t call. Or drop a text.
And worst, I lied to you, even as I walked away, when I made you believe that for the brief time we were together, we loved truly. 

‘The time when I got lost in translation’.

I knew I was falling but there was no ground, no side walls, no ceiling. I tried screaming but nothing came. The darkness was too intense and it chilled me to the bones. I knew it was time, time to give up. But then I hit the ground. The reality. And that’s when I finally woke up from my slumber.

Unrequited love, cruelest of all.

There was something in his gaze. Something deep and raw. The way he looked at her. I got it then. He loved her, and it was killing him. He wouldn’t get over her, I whispered, he can’t.”

‘…a song of melancholy’

His life is a prison.
– His heart is caged.

A long gone lover,
– whose memory has aged.

He couldn’t hurt,
– the one he care.

“Letters you once wrote…”

Letters you once wrote.
affectionate gestures,
– ‘feelings in quotes.’

Still lies between the pages
– of my old diary.
Safely secured.

“…better left unsaid”.

How do I tell him that I don’t write anymore because it’s him. On my mind. All the thoughts. All the damn time. That even when I try hard to write something new, something people could relate to. I end up writing about him.

A short tryst of reverie

A short tryst of reverie,
Down the lane of memory
they sat in contentment
In silence of their preference.

Beneath the stars by the woods
Dwelt in their deeds of goods.

“No escape would get you peace, if your mind is at chaos.”

At last, do not forget, there’s a part in all of us that’s scared, unsure and broken but when you get the ability to see that in yourself, you start to see that everyone is fighting every day. So, instead of saying you’re breaking and can’t take it anymore, think of the time when you helped your mother when she was at her lowest, when you corrected your best mate out of doing something horrible, when despite of your own mental breakdown, you kept going. You survived. So, be good to yourself, and make peace with your demons.