Somewhere out there,
Two people are hugging.
Two people are kissing.
Two people are laughing.
One is talking while the other listens
With a smile on their face.
Love letters are being written.
Hearts are doodled in notebooks.
Stolen glances in crowded hallways.
But somewhere out there,
Two people are silent.
Two people are crying.
Two people are arguing.
One walks out leaving the other
At a loss for words.
Names are being scratched out.
Pictures of happy memories are torn.
Broken hearts litter the cobblestone pavement.
Some people bask in its light,
Others tremble in its shadows.
Some inhale its sweet scent
While others struggle for breath.
Love is a capricious lady.
Gentle, tender and warm
Or merciless, cold and hard.
For those finding themselves on the latter side:
There are different people.
Some will skim through your pages.
Others might read the chapters they’re interested in,
Or read your whole book and fold some of your pages that were inspiring or admirable.
But there will always be someone who will read the entirety of your book—cover to cover— and keep it.
Missing someone is hard.
But sometimes you have to keep missing them every day
Until one day you realise that you don’t anymore.
Sometimes, one has to
Flow with the river
Over the rocks,
And let them go
At the edge of the waterfall.
