Sometimes, it seems like love never dies. It may hide, run, stay away from the glare of the world’s judgemental eyes, but it never really disappears into the wild. It will always exist.
In the lanes where they held hands.
In the songs they heard and shared and danced to.
In the private jokes that nobody still gets.
In the poems only their eyes have seen.
In the postcards dripping of longing and beauty.
In the smoke that wafted through the air as their cigarettes burnt.
In the passion that burnt through their soul, leaving searing marks on his back and her neck.
There is an unbreakable sense of belonging to people who take your name like it is a prayer, their only hope of salvation and their only hope of a better life. Life is long and time is brutal, but sometimes, it’s not about the memories. It is about the wait. How long would you wait for the one that got away?
And despite our best attempts at putting on the veneer and a formidable poker face, love still exists.
In the sunlight streaming through the windows.
In the early morning kisses.
In the slammed calls and doors.
In the ‘I will miss you’ kisses.
In the ‘I am leaving’ sobs.
In the ‘You promised you wouldn’t let me go’ eyes.
In the ‘It’s over’ face.
In the silence of a dead phone line.
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