Beyond the sunlit smoke and spellbound parks, Beyond the tongue tied smiles and piercing dark; Beyond burning wrists and icy stings Beyond poems that made love to awful things; The story is painfully simple.
You really loved someone; Someone didn't love you.
How charming it is to love without profit.
Inspired by a poem called "Beyond the Clutter of Poetry"
The colors that have drained from the dreams of people, lie cluttered on the doorway of their homes. Everytime they try to leave for something more practical and more safe life, that they chose, that awaits them everyday and does not keep them worrying about what all they can loose. Everytime they step out, even in hurry, they sidestep that clutter. Look at it from the corner of their eyes and for a second their heart seems aware of the frost that is killing it. For a second the reasons for the sleepless night and blank gazes is recalled. But the limbs keep moving to keep a distance from hopes that never materialize. On their way back home they dread to see the clutter of discarded dreams. But they want to believe that ignoring and forgetting it becomes easier with time. Although it never has.