I am not searching for my 'the one' for years now, I fall for some guy And then he also likes me We talk and strengthen the bond, Technically we can live without each other But just that he takes the essence of my day with him, as he goes or I send him away
Loneliness, vulnerability Two feelings showcasing the weakness of my heart As we break up, But, I make same mistake Again, and again And yet again.
I learn that I can't tolerate this or that of him, But I dig my hole and hug someone else's arms Again, and again And yet again.
I cry, I isolate After every long or small relationship, I feel in the moment that this is beautiful This moment should go on forever But I never search for my 'the one'
I am always between better people Keeping my search for life partner aside I don't know why I treat my dating life and marriage prospect so apart Is it lack of confidence in myself, Or him, or fear of getting caught being so responsible for my own life?
Memories and moments are so beautiful in the beginning, The immature being in me expects things to go like this for God knows how long, However some day I need to commit, marry and blossom plants But does this mean I ain't ready for love Or life? Or I am just a lonely wreck, who firsts let him fall in love with me And leave him by giving rational thesis about the right thing.
Nobody likes giving hard times to their love interests, But I do it anyhow, And also cry myself out at the same time For the sins I deliberately do, Again and again, And yet again.
"I'm not in love with you" he said, one sober night. Seeing my raised eyebrow, he repeated himself, "It's not love, Teresa. "You know that, don't you?" I held his stare for a minute hoping for something. That maybe his gaze would avert, maybe his eyes would flinch or anything, anything to tell me that it was just his reluctance speaking. But, the seconds soon turned into minutes and there he was, still looking at me with an emptiness that remained unwaivered. Smiling, I pulled him closer hating nothing more in that moment than the smell of our last kiss which was of his aftershave and not his favorite whiskey.
The love in his "I'm not in love with you" didn't weep that night. But, the songs he had sung for me, did. The mistletoe we had kissed under, felt betrayed. And the sunset that had initiated this not-a-love story, sighed. But love? The love in his "I'm not in love with you", simply smiled. It blamed the absence of alcohol. It smiled at the helplessness of sober nights. It smiled for it believed itself to be imperishable. The love in his "I'm not in love with you" is still delusional. It's still foolish enough to await another drunken encounter for it is certain, it's all that is needed to recommence the tale that was never even a love-story to begin with.