every picture is a story

i am a lucky, i have been looking for her a very long time, i have surfed the waves of many relationships, where there were more sorry than love, when i love you was said too often, more to convince than to share. many times i have used and abused, i have been used and abused, i have unloved, cherished, rejected, cried and begged. but it was a karma advance payment for future realization, so i thought.

she is unique, she is the element making boys becoming men, she is the person you fight hopeless war for, her presence was source of anxiety her absence source of depression. she was in love i know, i claimed so often fake love that now i have an eye for it.

but i didn’t noticed that she loved someone else more than me, that my love was shaded by bigger than me, she loved herself more. so much than when she did the despiteful act, she had no problem calling my name for the blame, and me stupid lover fool use my silence to protect her. where is she now? still in my heart but not in my eyes