We exist in a dangerous situation, our hands tied up, constraint in the other part of ourselves. We are holding onto each other as hostages, point guns at each other, waits for the moment where the trigger goes off & plugged.
I first thought this is the definition of our love so I keep guard. Just as love revolved & turned into a rotten game of suspicions & doubts. The thumb rule is to hold our breaths as we inch closer to each other, sitting close, shoulder to shoulder. I indulged in your tenderness & if you love me, I shall not fear the splint.
This game ended when I felt the gunshot pierced through my heart. With the blaring sound that goes off, everything turns into ashes & returns to a new start. We released each other as a hostage, ending the purity of our love in a sorry state.
Are you truly happy now? Are you truly satisfied now? Let’s stop lying. I don’t want to be struck in this rotten game of Love.
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