Tag Archives: couple

TO THE GIRL HE WILL LOVE AFTER ME

Let me just first erase the thought in your mind that I am mad on you. No, I am not. In fact, I am glad he ended up being with you. Even though I don’t know you that much, I know you’ve got all the attributes that he likes. That is the very reason why he chose you over me.

You are very lucky for having him. He is a treasure, a rare one. He is sometimes naughty but let him be. He is just about to cuddle you. He is as sweet as candies, he is lovely as the day goes by, he is patient, my dear. He is ready to understand everything you demand… He is an ear to your nonsense dramas. He is a shoulder to cry on in pains. He is somehow quiet, but he’ll be the noisiest man on earth when saying how much he loves you. He is a man of few words, but a man with one word. He knows how to keep his promises… That’s why I am thinking: why he left me? He won’t just be your boyfriend, but your friend, the very best one, your knight in shining armor, your superman, your living diary, your handkerchief. He is a complete package.

But most of all, he will be your man. Strong enough to hold you, dauntless to fight for you, you’ll be his kryptonite.

Take care of him, sweetheart. I may have caused him so much pain, I may have caused him so much ache but I have loved him above all. Don’t worry, I know I am not his happiness now. And if happy is not me, I have to let him go…

Things just didn’t work out on us. I do hope in the two of you will. And it might kill me watching your hearts collide, but I’ll wholeheartedly accept.

Keep him for he is for keeps. Take care of him for he’s too much vulnerable. Be patient with him for he is a child at heart.
Listen to him for all he wants is a good listener for he knows how to do it. And lastly, love him as much as you can. Don’t you ever give up on him. Love him in the most possible way. Love him because that is what he deserves, love him because you love him.

Words by: Hannah Eunice Villamin

#FallInArts

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It’s Complicated

“Has someone ever told you that you are too difficult to love?” She poured herself another mug of lukewarm coffee. I sat on the grey sofa reading Sputnik Sweetheart by Murakami. She sat right beside and clasped the end of her dotted skirt. “People have left me for it. I don’t blame them, though. On most days, loving me is a task.” After saying, she took the book from my hand. She inhaled the scent of the pages. “Isn’t Sputnik the name of the first artificial satellite?” I nodded. “So, you don’t hold it against those people?” I asked without meeting her gaze. From a distance, I could hear the sound of a Ferris wheel. “Not really.” Her voice brought me back. “Don’t all relations disappoint in the end? I mean everyone leaves. Sooner or later, people see the blemishes. The imperfections overwhelm them. Staying will mean accepting and efforts. Few are ready to do it.” She fiddled with her hair as I devoured another cigarette. “So, you don’t just believe in love, then?” She gazed into my eyes and paused as if to frame her words carefully. “I do. I just find people who are as difficult to love. In that way, the struggle to love becomes the entire point.” She tapped a button on remote and filled the room with music, rhythms, and sound. I read Murakami while she gazed into nowhere thinking about loss, love, and how lonely must those satellites feel when they quietly stroll through the sky.

~ hardik nagar The Honest Musing

Bogart And Bacall

Stories

The story of how one t-shirt makes me feel

All I have left of you is one t-shirt.
I deleted all your texts and erased you from social media. I even threw away an odd sock I found of yours, black with an orange toe and heel.

This one t-shirt that I can barely bring myself to look at, let alone wear, crops up in my washing every now and again. It is so foreign to me, so infinitesimally you that I cannot wear it and feel at home. I do not recognize it. Maybe that is because I never felt at home with you. Never felt comfortable in my own skin. Always brittle, on edge, ready to snap and break in your presence. To shut down and shut you out.

This one t-shirt is all I have left to remind me of you. When I close my eyes and try to conjure your image up I cannot. I can only see small details. Your red curls, your ice blue eyes, the freckle on the pinkie of your left hand – the one I only noticed the day we walked away from each other. I remember the gap in your teeth, that funny tight smile and the way you used to say my name, hold my hand, stroke my face. But you as a whole/the person I thought I knew? That I cannot see.

This t-shirt is all I have left to remind me of the darkest five months of my life. The hardest, most painful, jagged and scarring thing I have ever endured. Five months of stretching and snapping. Five months of seeing how happy we could have been and five months of being miserable. Five months of wanting to let go and love and not being able to. Five months of pushing you away and wanting to hold you close. This t-shirt is a memento of my failure. Of my loss. Of you.

When I wear this t-shirt and people comment on it – they say ‘that suits you’ or ‘i haven’t seen you in that before’ or why don’t you wear it more often?’ And the words to tell them why I do not wear it catch it my throat. I say – it is not mine.

I can never bring myself to say that it is yours.

― Alice Nicolov

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Six Degrees Of Separation

If I were to kill myself tonight I would do it to get into hell
And from that eternal consuming state
I’d wander 3,000 feet below your toes 
And that, to me
Is the apotheosis of everything I couldn’t say
Because you weren’t ready to hear it
Or maybe because I fear rejection
And showing nothing means feeling nothing
I wish I could mutter the words
To bring you back
To have you crawling from under my bed
And finally, realize you were the monster in my head
The idyll in my dreams
The reason I’ve turned into an insomniac sleepwalker
A wrecked lifeless being
Who later took this nothingness and despair
And transformed it into poetry
With which I hoped I could make you mine
And force you to remain in our realm
Built on demons and sleepless nights
And inner peace
To get by.

Six degrees of separationby Vlada Bunescu

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Pairs

Things of importance,
Are always in twos I presume.

Sadness, joy
And then
Sadness resumes.

Moments shared with you
Are always lived twice.

Once what angered me
I laugh at it and rejoice

And then I remember
The rainy December
We’d laughed till we got
All tired

Now I looked back at that time and cried.
I live my every moment with you
In two alternating shades

Once with you
And then again
As your presence fades.

— “Pairs” by Iqra Aslam 

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TO THE MAN I WILL ALWAYS LOVE

Someone asked me if I am over you, I just smiled. I have always ached every time I realize it’s you, and it will always be you. The idea of me loving someone else is a blur right now.

As much as I wanted to say, “I am over him, I don’t care anymore,” and mean it, I can’t, because I care. Even if you happen to stumble on my way ten or fifteen years from now, I still and always care.

A lot of people misunderstand this concept of moving on and say you won’t care about the past if you’re truly over it. For me, it doesn’t work that way.

Moving on for me is merely accepting what happened, with no regret for what will never be. And for a person who loves too much, I can truthfully say that one can never really get over someone who once meant the world to them. We can just get used to the pain and feeling of missing someone until we make ourselves comfortable in it, and I believe that a tiny spark of hope can always reborn what we thought is already dead– love.

It’s been two years since everything ended but I can still remember the vast happiness I had when I was with you, and I just want to say that I miss you.

I miss those moments when we glance at each other and smile because we both know words are not enough to explain what we feel. Even if every day I am dying to feel these all again, all I could do is sit here, try to be happy for you, and pour out all my feelings by writing about you.

Love, if ever the time comes when you remember me and come back, just know that I am always here, waiting.

However, love, if the time comes when you come back and see me loving someone else, just know that it took me too much courage to open my heart to another guy again after what I’ve been through for you, for us. If you happen to realize that he could have been you, just keep in mind that my heart, no matter how much it endures every pain for you, it gives up.

I know I’ll be in love again. But for now, I’ll continue holding on to what you said, “If we are meant to be, love will lead us back.”

You see, I don’t believe in destiny and such things as “meant-to-bes” for I know that only our own choices influence what happens in our life. But you, you made me believe in dreams and fantasies.
But I guess it’s time to wake up.

I’ll smile for you again because I know that one day, I’ll be seeing you.
Until then, I will be missing you.

I am not asking for you to come back. I see you are very happy now and it somehow eases the feeling of longing for your presence, for your happiness is my delight, even if I am not a part of it.

Written by Tin Sarmienta via Berlin ArtParasites

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I’m Just Not Cut Out For Love

“She’s a special kind of woman…She’s the one with the ability to be that rock and that foundation. She’s the woman who will sacrifice for your happiness, support your every dream and be your biggest fan. She’s the one that will inspire you, motivate you and challenge you to become a better person in every aspect of your life. She’s the woman who will fight to make things work and never take the easy way out. She’s a special kind of woman. She’s loyal. She’s intelligent. She’s passionate about life. She has a soul. She has substance. She has a heart of gold. And she knows how to love unconditionally. She’s a special kind of woman. And she’s entirely too special to be with anything less than a king.” ~ Unknown

I’m beginning to think that maybe I’m just not cut out for love.

I suppose it isn’t love but rather reciprocal love. Or at the very least, the kind of love that would make someone want to do anything to be with me. The feeling that two people get that inspires them to move mountains to make their love as real as the sunrise.

Maybe my problem is that I just think love is supposed to be magical—not logical. My soul craves electricity, sparks, poetry, and the way the kiss of a soulmate can make the world disappear.

Yet as much as I crave this, as much as I give this love to others, it’s never given back to me. I am never the one who sits across from someone while they hold my hands telling me, “Baby, there isn’t anything in the world that I wouldn’t do to make this work, because you are the one thing I know for certain.”

But I’m tired of lying to myself, and I’m tired of pretending that friendship is the only possibility. And I’m even more tired of believing in love and having faith that one day I won’t be putting myself to bed alone each evening.

I think I’m finally realizing that, just maybe, I’m never going to be loved in the way that I need to be.

Maybe it’s my destiny to be alone, maybe it’s my lot to give but never fully receive.

I suppose it’s my fault in some ways, because I always see the light even in the darkness. I never focus on the reasons why it won’t work, but only the reasons why it would. I don’t look at how difficult it could be, but how worth it it would be. I don’t spend a minute thinking about how a love would affect others, because I know that when you find a love that feels like home, you hang onto it.

I’ve always been a romantic, someone who loves the dramatic climax in movies when all seems lost but then love wins. The kind of woman who wants a man to drive hours just to feel my lips against his, or to get woken up in the middle of the night just because he couldn’t wait until sunrise to see me. Maybe it’s not even love I’m after, but just being so special to someone they would do anything to not only get me, but keep me.

Yet, even with all of this, I refuse to change.

I won’t budge even an inch, because I am unable to accept anything less than the kind of love that spins my world around and lands me in another dimension. A love that kisses me like Sunday morning, and has me on my knees praying in gratitude that our souls were brought together in this lifetime.

I don’t want a regular love. I don’t want others to approve of us simply because we have things in common or because he would be a good addition to my family. I don’t want a man to say “we make sense.”

What I want is the man who tells me I drive him crazy, that I kill him slowly with my love and realness. I want a man who breathes me in and refuses to go through life with anyone else by his side. I want a man to struggle with the idea of me and feel that no matter what he does, he just can’t get me out of his heart.

I guess what I’m really after is a man who will fight for me, for us, in the same ways that I would for him.

Someone who not only tells me I am worth it—but shows me with his actions.

Even with my heart draped in bittersweet love, I still don’t think I am asking for too much. I don’t think that it’s crazy to think that sometimes love does grow in the most unlikely of places and that when that happens, instead of running away, we have to plant our feet firmly and remain determined to protect something so special.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I don’t know if perhaps one day there will be a man who throws caution to the wind just to be the one who wakes up to my starry eyes in the morning.

I don’t know if I will ever be loved in the ways I need to be. Maybe I’m just not cut out for love. Maybe I am meant to walk this life alone, giving out unconditional love as gifts to those I cross paths with. Perhaps it’s only in my loneliness that I am able to love like I do—because when it’s undiluted and pure, it becomes an unstoppable force.

But I don’t really believe that. Because I know I am not wrong for what I feel and what I want. Because I’ve learned that in love, you only get the amazing stuff if you actually believe it exists.

As for me, I’d rather spend my days alone believing in this messy, imperfect, difficult, beautiful vision of love than settling for the bland taste of companionship without passion.

Author: Kate Rose

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Slight

Someone said to someone:

“You’re lucky you’re ugly, at least you know people aren’t around just to fuck you.”

And it brought back memories…

…of the time someone has rowed a boat for four hours because I got it in my head to spend a night in an abandoned lighthouse on a sandbar somewhere. I said:

“I envy her -indicating another couple in a boat a few meters ahead of us- he is rowing for her.”

My companion stated the obvious. So, I asked him:

” Would you still do it if I were she/her?” 

The relationship was practically over before we even hit the shore.

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Laughter It’s Not

You think you miss someone. But it isn’t like that. You miss the moments you shared together. You miss the things they made you feel. You miss the persona you concocted in your head to fit the missing pieces you were too blind to discover for yourself. Until little by little, that persona faded away. You started to uncover the real missing pieces of their complex and erratic personality. Sometimes you’d become amazed at the qualities you hadn’t seen. You’d started appreciating them more and more, growing even more fond of them. Then the days had come when you’d scratched the surface deep enough to see their more obscure vices, and you started to question some things. Regardless of their importance, you pushed these away thinking that you could work through them, or you just ignored them altogether. Until the false image you’d created erodes completely and reveals a stranger. And only when this bubble burst is when you realize that you’d made a grave mistake to have given so much of yourself to them.

~ Berlin ArtParasites

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The Two Of Us

I wonder what Adam told Eve after
he realized that she bit into the apple,
and now their entire world will tumble.
And God will do what Gods do and curse
them to burn in the eternal fire and abandon
them from the home they built.
And I see the guilt in Eve’s eyes, and she
looks at Adam and realizes that it’s over.
Just yesterday, they ran around, naked,
in the Garden of Eden, and laughed about insignificant
things, and spoke without
ever saying anything. But now, they know
about right and wrong, and nothing makes
sense anymore because that’s what
happens when the mist disappears. That’s
what happens when we uncover whatever gory
details hid beneath our veils.
You, too, will realize one day that we’re
two terrible people who are trying to be good.
But it won’t work because the world
will keep scaring us and we will
keep scratching each other out of fear.
I can see Adam running away from Eve, hiding
so that she doesn’t see him. And I can imagine
you treating me like a goddamn stranger.
Listen.
We ate the apple, and the Gods are pissed.
So, they let us create something.
Only to watch as we destroy it.
 
-the honest musing via Facebook
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Garbage Bin

This somehow reminds me of a blog post I wrote a while back. A true to life tale I called  A Valentine Story.

I don’t know about intimacy, but we knew how to fuck. So, we hardly ever talked afterward. I cracked a few jokes, did some small talk, and she responded with laughter and nods. Then she got dressed, kissed my forehead, and left.

This went on for months. I didn’t know how she got that scar on her thighs, but I knew she liked it when I touched there. She didn’t know why I’ve so many acne on my back, but she was always careful not to scratch them, even by chance.

On some days, she cried. For at least 20 minutes. I never asked why, and she never bothered to tell from ahead. But I would hold her as she sobbed – stroking her hair, caressing her earlobe.

Her name was Anamika. We met through an online dating app, and she straight ahead told me she’s just looking for sex. “I don’t care about your issues, and you shouldn’t care about mine,” she said, right after we slept together for the first time.

Anamika had a tattoo of a garbage bin on her lower back. Sometimes, when she was asleep – snoring lightly – I touched it and wondered why she got inked.

Every once in a while, she had bruises on her neck, her chest, even her back (right above the tattoo, sometimes.) But I wasn’t allowed to ask her about it. That was our deal.

So, we quietly wept with each other. Two strangers seeking refuge in loud moans, hoping to drown everything else.

One day, she didn’t turn up. And then the next week too. Then an entire month. Her phone was unavailable, and I had no other way to get in touch with her. For all I know, Anamika wasn’t even her real name.

I still don’t know what happened to her. Maybe, she got bored. Maybe, she moved towns. Maybe, she died. I can’t say.

But I’ll remember her, and the little bin on her lower back. I don’t know anything about love. But Anamika and I knew how to fuck.

~Hardik Nagar The Honest Musing via Facebook

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Don’t Settle For A Love That Doesn’t Rock Your World

“Love is not warm and fuzzy or sweet and sticky. Real love is tough as nails. It’s having your heart ripped out, putting it back together, and the next day offering it back to the same world that just tore it up.” ~ Glennon Doyle Melton

Don’t fall for my bullsh*t line when I tell you that I just can’t find a good guy.

It’s a lie I allow to fall from my lips to cover up the fact that I’ve found many.

So many good guys out there have found their way up the chipped, concrete stairs leading to the somewhat splintered wooden door of my patched-up heart.

They’ve bravely knocked and asked to come in, undeterred by the non-existence of a cheery welcome mat out front or the fact that I like to keep the door tightly locked because I’m still afraid someone might find their way in.

I like to playfully joke with a twinkle in my eye, “There’s no point in coming in here, boys, because I know you’re going to leave anyway!” I breathe it out with a light-hearted laugh, the wave of my hand a last-ditch effort to convince them it’s totally okay with me because I wouldn’t really want them to stay too long anyway.

I may even tell you that I don’t allow them in because, just by sizing them up with my guarded hazel eyes, I can tell that they wouldn’t rock my world—and I’m a strong and independent woman who knows what I’m looking for so I’m not gonna settle for any ol’ love.

Nope, not me…I won’t settle for anything less than a total shake-up of my world.

This is a lie. You know that right?

The truth is, I’m not at all afraid that these men won’t rock my world. In fact, I’m fairly certain I let a few go who most certainly would have shaken the boots off my trembling legs.

The truth is, I’m afraid that I won’t rock theirs.

And I don’t want a man to settle for me when I can’t rock their world.

I think we all deserve a love like this. One that leaves us sleepless when we lay in bed at night thinking about that person—the one who leaves us breathless, our heart excitedly pounding in our chest when we watch them walking toward us, anticipating the feel of their lips meeting ours. One who stokes our sexual fire and creates a deep and penetrating longing in our bellies counting the hours until the next time we can make love.

We often settle for much less. We settle for sleepless nights because the one we’re with hasn’t returned our calls or texted us back and we’re wondering where they are or who they’re with.

We can’t catch our breath because we’re filled with anxiety that we may not be the only one in their life, but we’re too afraid to ask.

We feel that sexual fire within us, but the longing in our bellies is because our sexual needs are not being met and we’re too scared to ask for what we want or express what we need.

We deserve a love better than this.

One that leaves us wanting more of the person, not because they aren’t enough, but because being in their presence makes us feel so damn good, we want that feeling every second we can have it.

And if we know we can’t give someone the very same experience, we need to walk away. Until we know we can.

So don’t settle for any old love that’s in your life now and not making you happy. And don’t allow yourself to be led into one if you know you’re just not ready.

Wait. Just wait.

Be patient and listen to your soul—the part of you that knows with absolute certainty that this love has potential. That this love is the kind that is going to shake you up, tear you open and rock your world.

Then hold on for the ride of your life.

~Author: Dina Strada

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If You Want Me Come And Get Me

“If a man wants you, he will come and get you.” ~ Unknown

This time something feels different.

The storyline began long ago—but we both have a history of not finishing what we started.

This time—I’m hoping you’ll take the chance to run your fingertips over every one of my soft pages, reading every single word—even those said in between the sweet subtext of refuge.

Because this time, for you, I am an open book.

So baby, if you want me—come and get me. 

Come and surge through my door—because this time you know I’m ready for you.

Not just for the kisses that intoxicate us like the taste of electrifying absinth, but for the way you feel when we are together.

And while I may not know all the answers, something tells me, I inspire something different in you.

I am not professing to know the intricacies of your mind or heart—for one thing I’ve learned is, when you do want me to know something, I will.

And this time, I have no desire to rush you, or the endless amounts of time we could spend passionately working through the various endings to a love story, that we didn’t think we were ever going to read again.

I trust you enough to lead me.

Because however farfetched or unlikely it seems, I need to be lead at times and, for some reason, you take the reins like no one else.

That’s why this time, I’m leaving it up to you.

I think you know where I stand, and though I don’t have any conclusions about how this story will end, I do know the questions that I want to ask this time.

So, even though I want you, I’m not going to chase you.

If and when you decide that you want me, truly see what can grow in the most unlikely of places, then I trust you enough to choose the timing.

Although I can be a force to be reckoned with, I am more than that when I am with you.

And at one point I quaked in that role and fought against it, but now, it’s the pleasure of my simple undoing.

It is because of my strength that I need someone—yes, I said need—it is another thing I’ve learned this go around.

I do need someone.

I need a man, at times, to put me in my sweet place—not because I need to be told what to do, but because I need a man who is strong enough to know that I don’t really want to be so formidable.

I have lost my desire to lead.

Not that I will ever take a supporting role in my own life, but I also know that I don’t need to be in the starring role to make a difference in this world.

Because one thing I’ve learned is that I shine just as bright when I am quiet, with tears streaming paths down my soft cheeks. I don’t need to be the loudest, I can simply be myself and that is enough.

And though that may change on a daily basis—some days I may still roar, on most occasions I will simply just purr.

So, baby if you want me—come and get me.

Because I am a ripe peach, waiting for your teeth to sink into me, letting the sweet juices flow down your chin.

I am softness and understanding, just within your reach.

My eyes will tell you every sweet and bitter honesty—even if you don’t always wish to hear it.

Because this time, I’m not trying to be someone who I think you would want—I’m simply being myself.

While I may be filled with an endless array of contradictions, this is who I really am.

And I know myself well enough to know that anyone who truly wants me will come and get me.

And it won’t matter if a man knows all the answers, I am a question he can’t stop trying to figure out.

What may stand in the way or how ridiculous it may all seem, won’t matter to him.

If a man truly wants me, he won’t let anything stand in the way.

And, maybe you don’t really want me—maybe this could be all a game, one that I simply didn’t learn my lesson from before.

Maybe it is all about sex.

But, maybe it’s not—I wish to be judged for who I am now and not the crazy, train wreck of a woman who couldn’t look herself in the mirror, then I have to trust in the man you have become too.

I have no choice but to trust your words and the language of your eyes and hands.

So this time, baby, if you do want me—all you have to do is come and get me.

~Relephant Via Kate Rose

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