Sunday, September 6, 2009

You love her because she recited Prufrock to you with conviction.
But you forget the time I recited Prufrock to you, like my life depended on it.
You make her sound beautiful, and just leave. Just like that.
All the women you describe, come off as beautiful.
You fall in love with most women, because of one quality in them that stands out.
One quality.
I never asked you to love me, but I often wonder why you didn't.
This is not saying that i have learnt how to define how I love you.
Neither am I setting a melancholic mood, where I compare other women to me.
"Why didn't you ever love me?", is not the question.
The question is, "Did I ever have the potential" ?
I have stopped formulating my self worth based on your perceptions, learning the hard way.
No longer do I pine for you, or think of you when i listen to a romantic song.
Longing for you has been added to my past.
You matter. And that's that.

Yet.
When you describe her to be beautiful and a "woman of substance"
and when I can feel you falling in love with her,

Why does it hurt?
Why does it feel like someone pierced my skin with a pin, slowly and brutally and asked me not to squeak?