William Shakespeare once said " So dear I love him that with him, all deaths I could endure, without him, live no life". I felt that way once. A very long time ago or so it seems. There was laughter and happiness and much rejoicing. Back then it was easy to play the fool. I was willing. I loved but not at any cost. So it ended. The taste was still fresh, the feeling still there, the smell lingering. But I wouldn't give everything to be so close again, to be across the street or maybe a breath away. I learnt that the hard way. It was not like I didn't fight, to make it work, to understand, to forgive. Yes I did fight, but only with myself. Maybe I should have fought harder or been stronger. I see little pieces strewn across everywhere. But I don't want to look. I don't want to remember. Because to remember is to suffer. To see what was and now what is. The pain will eventually stop but the wound will never heal. It needs to be there. As a constant reminder that love and patience never go unpunished. This mistake, of falling in love, comes at a cost of regret. The only unbearable thing to live with. But the irony is that the regret would still be there if I hadn't made this mistake...
