Thursday, June 29, 2017

The Taste of Love.

Posted by Sunaina Patnaik at Thursday, June 29, 2017

I wondered what love was,
and how it existed in several forms,
I wondered more about it
on nights that I went to bed in tears,
pining for the one I love,
with tears streaming down my face,
dousing my pillow and leaving behind
the marks of my mascara on it
that reminded me every morning of
the previous night’s plight,
What was love?
It was an existential crisis that I wanted to
hold on to,
and I never knew why,
maybe it was because I was curious,
or maybe because it broke me
in ways I couldn’t imagine,
in fact, love never came easily to me,
I had to crawl, fight, and maybe even
ask for it, desperately if I may add so,
but this whole point of love, and the not
having it introduced me to my alter ego,
the vulnerable one, who often needed someone
to tuck a strand of her curl behind her ear,
or someone who could put her to sleep when she couldn’t,
she was needy and easily hurt, unlike the other side of me,
but I loved that side too,
and tended to it with a warmth that a child would need,
and somewhere deep down, I wanted love to do the same,
but when I didn’t receive it, I threw tantrums like a brat,
cried like there was nothing left,
and built stories like ruins and catastrophes in my head,
you see this thing called love was playing silly games in my mind,
it was tricking me into believing everything that didn’t exist,
for I was letting it,
for I wanted it to engulf me,
in its madness,
slowly in the beginning,
and entirely by the end,
I wanted it to consume me
for reasons I couldn’t fathom,
so each time I met love in the corridors of my heart,
I put my mind to rest and
raced along with the frivolities of heart,
but I never really understood what love was,
sure I recognized it,
I knew its touch and exactly knew what its fragrance did to me,
I identified its presence even when I was surrounded by hundreds of individuals who themselves were trying to figure out what love was,
but the real meaning of love, the true essence of it,
of how it held the power of draining out the best parts of me and leave me insipid,
and how it tasted, I found it wholly and solitarily in a
heartbreak.

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