I find myself writing beliefs in love, and thinking about you. And I feel so sad, because I know it is pointless. You are my love, but I am not your love.
As Shakespeare as said once, long time ago, ” To be or not to be – that is the question”. Well, there is no question in here, because without asking it, I can see that I am not, and I will never be.
In some twisted way, it does not bother me, because I have resigned to the inevitable fact, that I am in love with you, and there’s very little that I can do about that. Just stand here, and smile, like I wasn’t crying inside. Smile, smile, smile, my poor heart. I will take care of you, of us. Do not worry. One day it will stop hurting. The day you stop loving him.
Meanwhile, just live like you have no heart, like it was out for a walk, and someday it will be back. It will be tired of walking and it will come back to you.
M.A.