Days and nights have suddenly turned cold in the middle of summer. Cold and Hard like last year’s loaf of bread. I slice them with blunt knives and chew on them without appetite. Indifferent messages do little to bridge the aching distance or break the deafening silence that has occupied every fiber of life nor does an occasional assemble of affectionate words give any comfort. Even though the heart longs, it knows it will never get more than that.
I wonder if this pitiless indifference is subterfuge for hiding the torments of love or it is the opposite of love. Love has denied rest to my soul and slumber to my eyes. I have begun to dread the approaching night. It deepens the loneliness and hurt as I stare into the vast emptiness of the dark sky. A lonesome moon sometimes glides past the window and lying on my bed, fatigued by days of sleeplessness, I watch it disappear from sight.
Words that I wrote for you float like pipe dreams, adding fuel to the slow fire consuming me from within. It is funny how presence makes itself felt more poignant through absence. Stray memories come to haunt , it is amazing how darkness brings things to life, gives them a form, a voice.
I lie as still as possible , least I disturb your silence and it moves away just as you have. I don’t even dare to breathe.
Mind is a fucking manipulating control freak and in those moments of vulnerability , it leaves no chance to whiplash.
There is no feeling worse than knowing you weren’t worthy of truth, of love, of sharing, of togetherness, of complete oneness, not even an incomplete one. Unrequited love curls itself in some secret crevice , wounded and bleeding. It doesn’t die.
There is always a part of me that hopes for more, and so there is a part of me that is always a fool. Love does that.
Am facing a silence so cold, so sharp you could cut yourself on it. There is nothing so hurtful, nothing so bare and forlorn as the silence that falls like swords on two people who no longer know what to say to one another, and it is the kind of silence that tells you that you are no longer of any importance to that person, who really is no longer even there; it is a silence that renders you invisible.
It has rendered me invisible. Some days ago I wrote , sometimes one knows one’s place – outside the periphery.. The words come out so powerfully now. It is all good to talk of giving space etc, of trust and understanding and being comfortable even in silence of a loved one but this is not that silence.. this is a silence that cripples.
It’s a marvel that even with such agony the longing doesn’t diminish , it continues to feed on the loneliness and gain strength. It grows stronger , so does love- even the unrequited one, for it has its own rainbows.
“Because, if you could love someone, and keep loving them, without being loved back . . . then that love had to be real. It hurt too much to be anything else.”-Sarah Cross
but the other part holds true too. We are creatures of desire and desire needs to be respected.
Love needs to be fed. Nurtured. Nourished. It needs to be deeply felt.
It needs to be reciprocated. Replenished.
It needs to be expressed. In actions as well as words
Especially when words are the only medium.
Unrequited love is an orphan of silence.
Abandoned to fend for itself during the endless days and never-ending nights.
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