Wounded Love

We lick our own wounds,

[Didn't you say you love me? But you left me all alone.

That night I became so helpless and feeble, and all I could do was curl up like a ball, hugging my legs, to make myself feel warmer without your presence. I kept rubbing my feet against each other, so I could imagine yours rubbing against mine. I have always loved that.

I thought maybe this could spare me some loneliness, but I wept like a baby, as I was reminded even harshly at your real absence. You hand could no longer wrap my waist, your lips will never again be on mine, your fingers not anymore running through my hair and your beautiful eyes now refuse to look into mine.

Ever since when has your love dissociated? 

No, I doubt your love. 

Have your love for me existed? 

You never try anything on behalf of me, but I tried everything to make you happy. I love you so much, that I gave all of myself, yet I got only so little in return. Why were you so stingy with your love? I didn't complained. I swallowed every bits and pieces of hardships. I was a good girl. But why couldn't you shower me with more love? My needs were that simple. 

I shouldered our relationship until it went down to only a single passage connecting between us. My faith was collapsing, but I rebuilt it again and again, because the very thought of losing you scared me. Yet, you were always crushing the pillars, so effortlessly, so innocently and so elegantly. My efforts were futile. I couldn't even cry a tear in front of you, because I fear of driving you away. I had to mask up and live in false pretenses. 

All the initial comfort during your presence has turned to unbearable intensity. I was beginning to feel utter exhaustion. Why has you turned this way? What has gone faulty between us? I can no longer reach you like I could. It suddenly struck me that, our mutual understanding has long vanished. Your love was gone. Yet, it took me so long to realize the truth behind all your words.

You were such a good liar, and such flawless speaker. 

You made me believed that you left me because you loved me.]

0 is not a number as we speak of relationships. Everyone started as 1. The number itself stands so proudly, so tall and so confidently; not knowing what lies behind the captivating fantasies about love. As we let our beautiful imaginations run wild we have forgotten that, 'Every coins has two sides.' The very first time love approaches, rationality looses itself; we let our hair down as we give in entirely without  a flash thought of holding back. There is only one road, as we closed our eyes to the others, abandoning even the escape routes. Tell me, how can love possibly be this dangerous? I have to fail you, because I am telling you the very truth, what risk love can bring to an unprepared person. Yet, we can never be prepared enough, because our minds accept only what we want, which is joy, and it excludes everything that we don't want, it is called grief. 

Everything about love is nothing,  but mere cliches and dittos. Because love is a common mutual every person possesses, we hear very often of its stories and see very much of its appearance. An experienced person will speak of love as good AND bad; a baby amateur will mention otherwise of love as good OR bad. I was once told, and I remember it until today, 'Love is like a sword. It could be a defense to help you, or it could be a weapon which hurts you.' I find truth in these words. It is however unfortunate for us people, that we never learn if not from the harsh ways. To becoming a swordsman, we cannot escape ourselves from injuries dancing with the sword. Cuts and bruises will make us remember the way we ought to hold our swords. While cuts and bruises also imprint us, making us never again to sway it this way and that, and never again holding it in such positions. Some people call it being wise, some call it cowardice. We only need to learn through trials and experiments, that is all.

Do not fear to love with wounds,

Shae