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. 

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.”

“…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.