The Lost Page of My Story

When I try to rot my feelings,

wishing they would die one day,

they only age like fine wine,

I am addicted

to the taste of her love.

Loving her felt more important,

than telling her I do.

Caring felt important,

than pretending ever could.

Silence spoke louder

than anything I could say.

Accepting mattered more

than complaining,

Pouring love mattered more

than I expected.

Truth mattered more than assumption,

Her happiness mattered more

than togetherness.

Dreaming felt important

than sleeping forever,

Wanting her felt more important

than ever needing.

My absence meant more

than my presence,

and loving her

meant more than hating myself.

I don’t need an audience

Nor her permission to love her.

It was born within me

and it grew on its own,

and it will love her

long after I am gone.

My soul still dances to her sound,

even when she is not around.

I still feel her beside me

because she is the lost page

of my story.

By

Sanji-Paul Arvind

**Do not judge my life based on my poems; My Poems and my life are 2 different things.