Category Archives: Relationships

In love

You cannot make someone love you.

You just have to let them go.

It is hard and it is painful.

There is only pain and darkness.

In love

I love him, I love him so,

I feel his pain as mine, he does not feel mine so,

To wait in vain for him to come,

To conquer his fear, but he does not,

He walks alone, but then I see,

He loves me so? But no, not ever, no . . . 

I endure the pain, my broken soul,

I walk away with my broken pieces nothing more,

To him I went, but no more,

To him, for him my heart yearns so much,

He knows not how deep in my soul he is?

He wonders why I don’t come back to him?

No, he knows not,

No, he wonders not,

No, his fear is his, 

No, my love is mine.

I am in love

I am in love. I’m not sure when it started, although I think I know how, with his smile definitely with his smile.

He is imperfect and he is so guarded with his feelings that he hurts me, not all the time but enough times for me to know that, even though I love him he does not love me.

We haven’t spend time together in four weeks, real time I mean, not just bitching about work in a safe public place. I knew it the moment I told him I was hurt and not mad, the moment I told him he had been inconsiderate and disrespectful that we were done. He never apologized and he never called me back for coffee Sunday mornings or dinner and sex.

He never apologized.

And I never called him back.

I never called him back even though I love him, even though he is in my heart and in my mind constantly. If I did, after what he said to me, I would loose all my self respect and I couldn’t live with myself then.

I can live without him, I can live in pain and sorrow, I can live with my tears and my sleepless nights but I cannot live without self respect.

He told me he didn’t care if I cared. When I was hurt, he didn’t care. Then I knew that even though I loved him and I love him still I couldn’t be with him.

What is love

What is . . .

  • Love is a 90’s song by Haddaway
  • Love is the number of imperfections we are blind to in our sentimental partners
  • Love is the pain I feel when I remember you don’t love me
  • Love is to give all the shrimps on your plate to your little brother even though they are your favorite
  • Love is to cry alone at night and laugh like a crazy person in your car
  • Love is picking up the phone at all times, at any time
  • Love is . . .

The other one

I had a dream,  a very long dream. Full of sadness and regret, full of poisonous thoughts . . . Poisonous to me most of all.
I dreamed of him, naked on the bed, naked on his living room, naked with another woman. I don’t know who she was, it didn’t really mattered. It only mattered that she existed for him and I didn’t.