L’amour Douloureux

She was used to the piercing, shearing, burning pain she always felt when he was not around. He was never around.


She could not let him go because she did not know where she would be without him. Everytime he refused her, she felt the warm and ironically, comforting flow of her tears. Everytime she wanted to be there for him, she was shunned by a cold, penetrating gaze that sent her fleeing, fleeing towards him. She ran towards her pain and misfortune.

He was her love. He, was her suffering. She had taken upon herself a lifetime of this bitterness. She did not know what life was without him. She could not live a life with him. He did not let her go. But he did not let her in. Life was playing nasty tricks with her.

Life, was him.

She was lost, she was dazed and she was caught off guard by his indifference. She fell in love with his nonchalence. She could not pull herself out of the quicksand. He pushed her further in and she allowed him to pull her, towards him and away from joy. He was a dark soul. He was her God. She gave him her time and he gave her a lifetime of disapproval.

And yet, she couldn’t leave him. For she knew, she wouldn’t be able to live a single breath without him. And he knew this too. For she knew, she would not be complete without his half. And she knew, living with him was better than living painlessly.

Is this love or is this madness? She knew she would die one day, because of him or for him. Either way, she was dying. And she wanted to be around him when he finally set her free.

She felt Powerless. Empty. Eluded. Eclipsed. He was the light and she was only the shadow. She was the object and he was her desire. Every stinging tear that she had wept and every bleeding moment of misery she would live was nothing compared to the Love she felt in her beating heart- when he looked at her. She knew that this would all come to pass because she loved him and he loved her. And this divinity was difficult to find, let alone live with. Every sob, every pin-prick, every howl…justified, by love.

Every sentiment, overshadowed. Every joy, overcast. Only love, remained.

“Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever Ours”


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