Melancholy.

A certain place. A certain song. A certain smell. A certain feel in the air can bring back memories. Memories you didn’t know existed. Like how you felt not the first time but the third time you met him.

The song that wasn’t your favourite but was randomly on your playlist.

The random book that lies unread on your bookshelf.

The random way he kisses you when you’re busy doing something.

The coffee shop across the street that always has it’s lights on.

The habitual way you start humming to tunes when you’re with him.

The brain has a unique way of hiding all these small, insignificant and random memories behind the important ones like birthdays, anniversaries, the first time, the last time etc. But these random memories creep in at a certain time or place.

Like the stone bench where you cried for the fifth time in front of him and you saw his own soul breaking.

Love: Pestilence or Reverie

It’s a funny thing.

It’s puerile.

I am infatuated by you.

But I am a credulous girl with the worst luck.

Maybe my stars weren’t aligned to meet love.

I want to love you.

But what can I do?

For all I know is that for me, love is like a pestilence or a reverie.

Where I am eventually left retrograding or wanting more.


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