The Second love
I have loved before. I have been married before too. And I was happy once upon a time. That must have been a year back. Or maybe, it was only yesterday. To me, it seems like it was only yesterday; like I have never really been apart from him.
I was hurt again today. In love. And that is when I realized that I have felt this pain before. It was then that I knew, I left love in the hope of abandoning pain; in the hope of running away from selfish feelings; in the hope of fighting attachment. And yet, I was in the same pit of feelings, same pit of emotions and now again, I look at those innocent drugged eyes of seduction and can’t help deny this want swell in me.
I didn’t plan this. I know neither did he. But it is as if my destiny was always here. It is as if I have forever been floating on the surface of a river, watching the tide to catch me. It is as if we have always been together, weaving love.
And now, paralyzed in the emotion which is so familiar, I can’t walk away when I feel his body next to me. As the warmth of his body closes on me, all I can do is wish I could lie there forever, wishing for nothing more. As I lie in his arms, it is as if, I have realized every single dream I ever dreamed. It is as if, I’m finally home. I’m complete and the world stops right there.
Tomorrow, I may wake up in his arms. Or I may not. I also know that it is expectation that gives us pain—but I can’t help cry wanting it to last; fearing its end. I wish, I would forever wake up watching his innocent eyes next to me; I wish I would forever wake up feeling his arms around me; I wish I would forever wake up listening to his heartbeat; I wish I would forever sleep next to him, listening to his soothing breath. I wish I could forever sleep next to him knowing that our love would last.
But I know this will all end one day. It was wrong to have fallen in love again. It was wrong to have even met him. But if it is all wrong, I think it is wrong that I even had all the senses that made me see this world. If I am not allowed to love now, if I’m not allowed to cry now in the pleasure of pain, I think all I can do is blame whoever is the creator, for he designed us this way. For now, let me love him. Let me hold him. And as I last, let me have him, even if it means, selfishly having him and loving him all for myself.