The Love Who Never Loved

​I thought you loved me. You cared for me. Unfortunately, wrong was I who mistook the things and you. We were friends. Best friends. And then suddenly love started falling in between us and our spaces. Everywhere. No, it just seemed to me. I was on ninth cloud swaying there among flocculent surface. The butterflies used to dance in my stomach when your name struck me and my hands shivered whenever our thought of togetherness came to me. But, it was nothing that way. Never. Initially, we so perfectly matched to each other, it felt, this is it. This is what life is meant to be. And then you accelerated it, proposed me. And things changed. Everything got perfect. Hallucinations of being forever with each other started to occupy me here and there. Like anyone fallen in love, I also started fantasizing things mildly and decorously. Really? I ask myself. Did you ever love me? You sang songs, made sketches, wrote poetry, made me stood on boards of appreciation. In another form, hypnotized me, narcotized me. So engrossed I got in your so-called love, I couldn’t differentiate between what is good and bad, right and wrong. I let myself so entrapped in things and found myself levitating in air, the journey which was not written for me. And I was flying endlessly in the vague trap of delusion you made for me, without getting any clue. As they say, love cause people blind. And I was deaf and dumb too.