Unrequited Love

She sipped her second last sip of espresso her lips gently savouring its strong bitter taste. She began to set her lucid cup down on the table when the yellow glint of sunlight hit the remnant brew. It transmuted into a glorious, almost amber brown. Amber... Whiskey...Honey...all things sweet to her mind ... his eyes.

The gentlest, kindest and most beautiful brown eyes in the world. She hadnt fallen in love with him till she peeked into those labyrinths... and yes she slipped away. She was lost.

Losing control is good sometimes, but its really scary. Everything and everyone around you yearns for that- control. And to give it up or have it snatched from you unwillingly; that scares you.

It scared her of course and she was in fact with someone else. How then could she lose herself. No matter how dark or slippery, it was her duty to stick on and stay.

But she searched for the same shades of brown in his eyes and she couldnt find it. She groped for the same quiver his touch had induced, and couldnt feel it. She wanted to laugh with the same abandon she had laughed with him at the coffee table, but all she managed was a half hearted sound that sounded more like an anguished cry. Why?

Can you be true to two loves; or does one actually eat into the other? The answer is: It does. And no mater how hard you try, the fabric of what you try to hold onto by clinging and clawing... frays into something you desire to hold no longer because it is degenerate.

So she left with all the courage she could muster and walked into the sunlight, and she smelt the heady concoction; the synergised smell that coffee and cigarettes had created. Her mind began to race with ideas, plans, happiness, words, sentences and excitement.
"So," she had said, "how are you?"
"Happy," he answered, "there is big news I have to tell you though. I met someone"

Is there a feeling worse than having a millstone round your neck and hurtling to the depths of the ocean at speeds that outdo the very limit of imagination?
Well... yes, there is and she bore witness to every drop in depth she went through. There was a smile though, a smile she thought masked the velocity of her falling.

Just then her bare shoulder felt the warmth of flesh. "Bill Madam" said the uniformed waiter at the bistro. She paid and left, stepping out into the warmth of the same sun with only that for company.

It is the strong who walk alone...the weak need their crutches.