The heart’s broken, soul withered, mind disillusioned. Happiness is pretence like the smile, to mask people away, to wall you in. Soon, the moss takes over the wall, thick in nature; it grows until the walls are no longer visible. But you always know, you always feel, you always remember that this wasn’t what you wanted.

Another moment, it’s the bloodshot eyes and you cry-everything you had even longed for, ever known, your emotions now fragile, your love now forgotten, your dreams now crushed, you cry. So much comes out at that moment that you feel your stomach being empty churned by the dread of loneliness, nausea drives you weak along with memories, and the vacuum is created.

it’s that one, but it is that moment.

Friends-she mused over the word as she watched familiar yet different expressions on his face. The laugh, the aura, the style, the chivalry-all was intact yet things had changed, the world had changed, she had changed or was trying to. For good or bad, was the question she thought she heard.

Couldn’t we talk, she thought of asking him-talk about all that I’ve been through, about times I really need you, about the bitter facts of today, about you and me, when we don’t remain us anymore.

And there were things she missed-small-stupid-silly-funny-but at the same time there was nothing better than the fact that they could still share a laugh, or coffee at times…

‘And it’s satisfying, well beyond it, the realization of the fact that yes; there -was-is- a man who loved you. It is a mean thing to do, to compare the part of love you’ve got with other things in the world or love itself-to weigh it-it won’t be a good choice, I feel’…she wrote down in her diary…

The shade of the evening got darker, the silence stronger and the taste of the coffee was wearing off. She combed her hair into a bun and wished she had let them grow.