sanjhana h.

sometimes you look at the person your ex chose over you and you realise you're just so much better than them. but it's not about how much better you are, it's just about... who your ex likes, you know? and that has nothing to do with you or your worth or even about her.

love is a crazy thing. matters of the heart aren't so rational. if love had been rational, people wouldn't be writing poems about it. what I'm trying to say is- it's okay that he chose her. maybe you are better, maybe you're not, but that doesn't matter. he's moved on, and it's time you do too.

xx

I slept with a poet today.

I kissed him

with the remains of your name on my lips.

and he kissed me back, tasting

like the ashes of a burnt relationship,

soot on his lips

that screamed his lover's name.

but i did not mind.

After we made love that day,

when I held him close like I held you once,

I hugged him for so long, i believed

hoped, he would morph into you.

but he didnt.

Instead, he stood up

walked across the room,

and picked up a journal

from a stack of journals

flipped through the pages,

until

he found the one he was looking for.

poem. not lover.

He read it, out loud

for me to hear.

it was a poem about passion

and love

and all those other feelings

you made me feel.

all those other feelings

she made him feel.

and as he read

we both smile

knowing

that he was thinking about her

and i, you.

~ S/H🤎

i keep saying "i love you" not just for you to know, but to also reassure myself that i still love you after every hurt you've caused me. i love you as an act of rebellion against my own heart.

𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒, 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑖𝑡?

observing the glint in their eyes

when they speak of things they love;

noticing their habits,

like the way they run their fingers through their hair

when they're nervous,

or the way their lips quiver

as you're about to kiss them,

which is different

from the way their lips quiver

when they're upset;

remembering their likes and dislikes; knowing little details about their day,

their routines, their tells, their habits

— if that isn't a way of telling them you love them, what is?

summer love

we loved in summer

and maybe that was

a sign

that everything we tried to grow

will eventually wither down

- S/H