I grew up imaginatively thinking that love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies—up until realization stroke me down. I distinguished that my entire soul had fallen in love with another spirituality long before my body met it. Indeed there was independency, for love was composed by myself alone. Reciprocation never occurred. Since then and up to now my counterpart side will always be found empty and bleak—no better half. Still, this living soul of mine roams around the columns, rows, and, lines between the spaces of any blissful location with a downcast emotion; hoping that maybe one day, his desired soul would soon be attracted to mine—even if I know that he's already inhabited by love with someone else. But if my little hope won't make us happen, anyone should consider me as an immortal with an unrequited love that would never ever cease to exist. Thus, the pain of being rejected will live in me forever. The body might die but the soul will never ever be.
-A
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Serendipity & Mishap
Poetrythe story of us started as a pleasant surprise and ended tragically by the unforgettable misadventure
