He sat down, staring at the blank computer screen.  Writing just ‘For Lily’ seemed too simple, yet it was impossible to write the story of them in just a page. His book was about regret, about what their lives would be like had they not parted ways.

“Lily, this is what we could have been.”

He reread the sentence he typed and realized that it fit the novel nicely. That was what the story was about. When he sent the first draft to his editor she was thrilled, saying that it was going to be a best seller.

He took one last look the last words he would ever write – “Lily, this is what we could have been” and saved the document.

He crawled into bed. His wife was already fast asleep. He put his arms around her carefully; closed his eyes; drifted to sleep with thoughts of Lily in his mind.

(26 June 2010)

the blue sea;

her blue eyes;

were supposed to inspire.

The yellow sun;

the yellow flower;

her yellow dress;

were supposed to inspire.

The green leaves;

the green grass;

her green book;

were supposed to inspire.

But,

the colours -

just like her -

failed to inspire.

(9 May 2010)

The devastation she would feel when she knew the truth would kill her inside and destroy everything that they had spent years building.

There are some days where devastation and guilt hits him, when he feels that he should tell her the truth but he always stops himself for he knows that the only reason he wants to do so is for himself.

He had to be selfish, that he knew.  He would never hurt her.

In life, there are always grey areas. Keeping this secret from her was his grey area.

He lived with the burden of his actions till his dying day. Even as her eyes looked at his soon to be lifeless eyes, he held his tongue.

She begged him, during his last days, to speak to her, but he never uttered a word. She thought that he was depressed, but he had to bite his tongue till he tasted blood to prevent himself from hurting her.

As a result, she got sad but her never got hurt. He eventually passed on and she never knew that he had a secret for you see, at the end of the day, secrets end with their owners.

(22 April 2010)

Her brown eyes, her brown skin, her brown hair.

Her intoxicating smile, her yellow sun dress, her soft hands.

In his room, twirling that strand of hair, he longed for her embrace.

heartache,

is simple.

Heartache is not a metaphor;

Heartache is not an emotion;

Heartache is not something you can get over.

Instead,

It is a physically longing.

Instead,

It is a state of being that never goes away.

Instead,

It lasts until the one who broke the heart,

Comes back –

physically picks up the pieces

and glues them back together.

please some back to me soon.

(20 April 2010)

Even if I laugh now,
and you don’t feel my pain,
and you don’t feel my growing love for you,
my heart hurts.

Even if i walk away now,
and you don’t see my weakness,
and you don’t see my sadness,
My Heart HURTS.

Even if i leave,
MY HEART HURTS.
Even if i stay,
MY HEART HURTS.

(20 April 2010)

to breathe

to survive

to stay alive

Running out of reasons

to hang on

to hold on

to stay on

Running out of reasons

to hope

to feel

to love

Give me a reason,

just one reason,

to breathe,

to live,

to love.

(11 Feb 2010)

“Better to have someone who loves you even if you don’t, ” her mother always said.

She was his everything but …

“How can you not?” he begged.

“It isn’t mine!’

“How can she not be yours? She grows in you.”

“It’s still not mine. Please don’t force me to keep it,” she pleaded.

“You have to, for me,” he begged.

“But I don’t love it.”