I wish falling for you was easier
but it isn’t, it could never be
that is not how you like it-
easy love goes only as far as that
and maybe that is why I loved you.
Or maybe that’s what I tell myself.
Everything I tell myself is a whisper,
a secret from you.
I tell myself stories of a ‘you’
that probably never existed.
I hope you never get to hear them,
for now even my sacrifices feel like betrayals.
I am afraid, till the end
my heart would only be able to love the fiction of you.
I am afraid, till the end
you would remain unloved.
Even when you don’t deserve to be.
That hurts me more than knowing that
even I cannot be truly loved by you.
Drops of your sweet memories
are settled on my heart,
on this morning, in this world
where I was meant to be lost.
It is a relief that
you are here in some form,
that I cannot truly forget you.
Thankfully, you cannot come from past
to ask me whether I have been doing well.
I am not sure what I would do.
Would I lie to ease your heart?
Would I lie to hurt you even more?
I do not want to remember the life
that I am living.
I have not changed a bit you see.
Denial was my preferred drug.
Maybe I am able to love you now in some way
because you are not the reality that my heart can’t take
but another excuse to keep my eyes closed.
I can love you now
since you are not here with me
to be hurt by what I am.
All my roads and plans are lined up
side to side.
And on every path I take
I see myself giving up sooner or later
and the moment I give up
I become the same person I was
before the I took these steps.
Being the same person I am
used to comfort me once.
when all I hear around me is
how I need help,
how I leave a bitter taste in every kiss,
how I have a tendency to be painfully unrealistic,
how my efforts make other uncomfortable.
Now I cannot remain the same
when they have shown me how wrong I am.
But my trying hard to change
makes me hate myself that much more.
I ask myself “what do I really want?”
and I feel pathetic with the only answer that I hear
“I am ready to want anything and be anything,
that can make someone truly love me.”
Let me crib.
Let me complain
and let me regret it,
and say again and again
that I never meant a word that you found mean.
I am unusually irresponsible.
I have a ledger
filled with all that I must truly care for.
I only forget to look at it
and act on it.
Even if I am not actually a cold person
I won’t mind it if you describe me so.
I will brush it off
and probably fashion a passive-hatred for you
from all that I act doesn’t bother me.
When it all gets out of my head
and burns your heart,
I will let you crib.
I will let you complain.
and when you say again and again
that you never meant a word that I found mean,
I will believe you.
I hope that will be enough for us to last
longer that the time we could ever predict
if we let each other be mean sometimes, get hurt,
create a drama and forget it when it’s the other’s
turn to loose the mess in mind.