The hearts that can’t console

She never spoke much. I remember
her subtle relapses in the past,
like she was alone and had no one around her,
amidst the gazing eyes, poking her and asking
if she was Okay.
I wonder how she must have felt. Blurred, maybe?
They talk of love as an unbearable pain,
if it isn’t meant to be.
They say it takes a heavy toll,
the one you can’t pay.
They say the pain is worth it,
if it’s all happy in the end.
If it’s not? What if it’s not?
I would look at herΒ and would turn away.
That’s what I do, I turn away.
This winter is too cold, am I too cold?
I wouldn’t know.
Her sadness would deepen sometimes,
I wouldn’t know, I turn away.
I once wanted to be there for someone,
and wanted to tell her, it’ll be okay.
I couldn’t. They tell me, I couldn’t have done much
for I was a kid. How do you convince your guts?
Now nothing’s the same.
I would sometimes see her laughing out loud,
her laughter would cry its heart loud,
It was there, I could see it.
I saw a kid once, trying to entertain people by telling stories.
Nobody laughed. He sat down a little later,
He didn’t like it and I stood there looking at him,
never telling him his stories were good and I enjoyed them.
It could have made him smile, but I turned away from him.
Once she told me about her sadness
and I couldn’t muster the right words;
She must have thought of me as apathetic.
Once I laughed at someone’s misery.
It just came out of nowhere!
I was deeply saddened within… was I?
I was. I was. I know, I was.
People would imagine me cruel.
I’d like to know if he is doing fine,
for I feel he is not.
But I will never say a word,
I don’t do that.
I laugh with her all the time,
that is something I can do.
I can laugh. I laugh.

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