You really messed it up, again. Didn't you?
You swore to yourself, made notes about it, the last time you disheveled yourself,
The last time, you were in love.
You wrote poems about it, you bragged about it,
The last time you were having butterflies in your stomach,
The last time your cheeks flushed and your eyes glittered with happiness.
You're having it again. Didn't you?
You were so in love that you couldn't stop blabbering about it, showing it off to the world, letting each and everyone to know that you finally have it, that feeling.
Oh! How lucky you felt you were.
You were so blinded by the illusion that you couldn't feel the fog that was covering up the reality.
You ignored the red flags and followed the apparent fantasy, an abysmal fallacy.
And then suddenly but not shockingly, you fell down the chasm, that you thought was your forever.
It hurt you. It hurt you bad.
But wasn’t love supposed to hurt you?
You go to the highest point in love, to have that breathless feeling that excites you.
And then you fall down, sometimes been pushed, sometimes you slip, and sometimes you jump intentionally.
You didn't die; you broke something, maybe your heart or a bone or maybe all of them.
Paralyzed for life, you believed it to be the edge, the epilogue.
The end of all of your emotions, and you promised you wouldn't go to that point ever again.
But then, there comes a better, finer, a stronger point.
You trusted again, didn't you?
The new lover supersedes the last one, with all the qualities that the former didn't have,
You compare it. You find it reliable.
You make your past a parameter to judge your present, and what you thought would be your future too.
You become so impressed with his ability to replace the negativity of the past,
That you didn't realize he has its own red flags.
He was a new high, maybe safer, greener but not any better.
You gathered all your courage, trust, and whatever was left in your body, and took it to that point being hell sure, that this is going to last.
But guess what, you'll fall again. And it’ll be much worse.
So, Congratulations, you messed up again.
But that's, love for you, my darling.
It's a mirage.
So, go for it anyway,
Coz, everything else is surely dessert.

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