Love, which seems to be the answer, is another question by itself. You know. You are the love of my life. Yeah, you. No one else can ever become what you are to me. And all my life, till now, I have been looking for you. Desperately. Running from corner from corner. Scanning faces of strangers in empty streets. Sitting alone on solo benches in parks, watching, un-involved, the passage of sun drenched afternoons. Writing poems, heartlessly; waiting, incessantly. I have been looking for you. With the basic assumption that love is the one answer. I seek. But.
Now, that I have found you. Yeah, you. I don't know what to do anymore. With you. With myself.
This love feels different, than the one I had imagined, inside my head. Long long ago.This has rough edges, feels incomplete. With flaws.
I used to believe, that flaws are beautiful. In fact, flaws are the only beauty. Perfection is a ghost. But, somehow, I stand un-quenched. Here, now. Standing beside you, I feel like miles away. As lovelorn as then. As untouched as then.
I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. So, tell me. What is it that I seek.
"There is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.
People so tired
either by love or no love."
- Charles Bukowski