The Urge!

It's back.
The urge.
The same urge.

The urge to look into your eyes.
The urge to hold you once more.

The urge to feel your hand on the small of my back, pulling me closer.
The urge to feel your lips on my neck.

The urge to kiss you.
The urge to have what cannot be had.

The urge that kills me.

If only I could fly to you right now.

Clarity... or Lack of it!

My previous blog was full of outrage.

Fueled by a sense of unfathomable betrayal.

Probably, based on a belief that telling someone you love them, somehow makes a difference.

It gets you the right to be directly informed.

It makes you deserve that much.

Apparently,it doesn't.

Only madmen in love can nourish such romantic notion.

The timing is so atrocious.

The moment I gather myself and shards of my heart.

The moment I decide to distance myself, he has to come back.

He has to leave a word.

A formal greeting.

A word so deprived of emotion, it feels disrespectful.

Disrespectful, and fouler than an abuse.

Like spit in the face.

Like alms so petty, they offend a beggar.

It is like he mocks my love.

Or his knowledge of it.

Yet, I wait for that one pitiful word.

Wait with eager anticipation.

Wait, till it brings the disappointment of its bland notion.

Yet, I love him, over the other who loves me so truly.

Am I so blindly ungrateful?

There is nothing I appreciate more than my unparalleled fortune in what I already have.

Then why are my affections so divided?

Is it the allure of that which is beyond reach?

At least, the question is clear now. 

In time, the answer may present itself too.

Until then...

A Moment of Truth...

Missing someone.
So deeply, it feels like the heart may rip from the chest.

Want to see once more.
Want to hear once more.
Want once more.

Go to the website to listen to a song.
The song that plays in the background.
The background of the video.
The only video posted since leaving.

The video is now private.
Just like every photograph.
Like every tag.

How private?


Does the privacy endorse its truth?
What does it mean?


Fear? 
Of what?
Escape? 
From where?
Denial? 
What was to be accepted or denied?

An unpleasant truth does not change by closing the eyes to its existence.

The truth remains.
The heart remains.
The heartache remains.


Like it will rip the heart out of the chest.