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gatsby

I am trying to understand what the meaning of love is.
Love brings equity.
It brings a kiss of hope.
You share yourself,
into each other allured.

True love though is a matter different,
different of its kind. Colossal even.
it’s the music only his ear hears,
while to deafness the other reclines.

True love is his truly.
For her, his every dream changed.
it’s the light his light house gleams,
but only in vain.
As his light was his truly.
She could never want to see it enough.
Blinded by dubious desires.
She brooded for a different love.
The type you can hire maybe.

His soul was wed to hers.
So he waited for her to fall for him.
But see, his love was so true.
So pure. So in-depth of a soulful realm,
that no one could possibly share it with him.

So he took his love to his grave sleep.
He keeps it to himself, unwillingly.

Hence, I try to make his cameo,
but he made himself immortal.
And I am just a sideline watcher.
I watch what true love is.
And still, I don’t understand. No one ever will. No one like him.

-Sabah Batul

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