Life’s a strange kind of clown—
clever with jokes,
quick with its twists
Just when I thought time had folded in on itself,
and love had missed my stop,
she appeared—
Like sunlight through a shutter,
bright and sudden,
with laughter that made the walls lean in to listen
And in her brown eyes, I saw
a place I thought I had only dreamed
My heart, once hushed,
stirred as if woken from a long exile.
I knew, then—
as sure as one knows the tide’s return—
that I had fallen in love
Love led us to vows,
words exchanged beneath a quiet sky
She brought warmth to my cold corners,
turned silence into song,
and filled the kitchen with the scent of cinnamon and comfort
But time, relentless and restless,
brought shadows where there once was fire
We began to quarrel—
not in storms,
but in subtle, daily tremors
Forks. Calendars.
Empty cups left out like forgotten apologies
Wings or crosses—what would she give me?
Would I rise or sink?
Would my soul keep going or fade?
Was this just pause, or ending?
We stopped dancing.
Weekends frayed into lonely errands
She had her way,
I had mine,
and the thread between us
thinned into silence
Then she left—
quietly, finally—
closing the door like one who has already wept
Still married,
but more like ghosts with names
Too much history,
not enough peace
Our meetings became performances—
a tea offered like truce,
a smile too strained,
a glance loaded with the weight of things unsaid
Some nights,
we remembered how to forget—
falling into each other’s arms
as though nothing had ever broken
But morning always came
And so did the truth
She returned once,
like spring remembering its way home
Hope was small, but breathing
A plant grew in the window,
and we watered it like faith
But even hope has habits,
and ours knew how to vanish
Boxes appeared
She left again—
softly, like fog lifting
Even the plant bowed its head
We stayed friends—
because what else do two tired hearts do
when they have loved so long
and lost so slowly?
And then one day,
her laughter floated down a street
I no longer walked.
It was wrapped in someone else’s jacket,
no longer mine to follow
I saw her—
not with eyes,
but in memories
Telling jokes we once shared,
smiling in colors I had forgotten
And I,
I sat with ghosts and tea,
asking questions with no shape:
Are you my friend, or my enemy?
Is this going to be a daily battle now?
Was I left behind?
Or quietly set free?
Darkness didn’t roar—it whispered
Wrapped itself around me
like a question without a question mark
Should I feel more?
Should I be more?
But I had worn my oddness like armor
for so long,
I forgot there was skin underneath
Even joy felt rehearsed
A smile painted on each morning
cracked beneath the weight of truth
And so, I walk—
through this patchwork life
of love and missteps,
holding both laughter and grief
in the same trembling hand
If ever I meet someone who says,
“I understand love,”
I shall nod politely,
and offer them a seat
among the rest of us—
All of us stumbling,
aching,
laughing
through this unruly dance
of the wild heart