He loved her, she knew.
She loved him not, he knew.
They both settled for friendship.
Their friendship blossomed.
And he was glad,
Glad, because he thought there could be some love hiding
somewhere.
Then came the day,
That day she told him she had found a Man.
Cursed be that day!
Was he also not a Man?
Cursed be the day she told him the Man had proposed.
Cursed be the “YES” she claimed she told Him.
Cursed be the “I’m happy for you” He told Her.
And Cursed be the day They got married!
All those times, the love he had in his heart
Felt like it was being squeezed out, little by little,
Till every last drop of love was squeezed out.
He felt he had no love to give,
And was incapable of accepting another’s love.
He became alone.
Alone and tortured,
So tortured, he severed all ties with her (and her new
life).
Now here they are,
Sitting face to face,
In his house,
In his couch.
He became teary-eyed as he learned from her
The trauma she went through.
He felt for her.
And the love was coming back.
Should he remind her?
As she spoke, he could feel her anguish, her pain.
A pain from which she would never escape.
A pain he could do nothing about than to offer his shoulder.
He drew near and she placed her head on his shoulder as she
sobbed.
She was trapped in a tortured world.
He was trapped too; in her tortured world.
She was haunted by her memories.
He was haunted by her pain,
And his desire.
The desire to dry her eyes with his lips,
The desire to kiss her pain away.
Should he?
He thought against it.
Maybe later,
After he had helped her withstand the torture,
After he had helped her conquer the pain.
For now, he would be content,
Content with being the shoulder she could cry on.
